DANIEL 
BOONE 


LUCILE  GULLIVE 


THE  LIBRARY  OF  THE 

UNIVERSITY  OF 

NORTH  CAROLINA 


THE  COLLECTION  OF 

NORTH  CAROLINIANA 

FROM  THE  UBRARY  OF 

Archibald  Henderson 


CB 
B72Ugl 


UNIVERSITY  OF  N.C.  AT  CHAPEL  HILL 


00032193625 


This  book  must  not 
be  taken  from  the 
Library  building. 


Form  No.   471 


TRUE   STORIES   OF   GREAT   AMERICANS 


DANIEL     BOONE 


•The 

•v9 


THE  MACMILLAN  COMPANY 

NEW  YORK   •    BOSTON  •    CHICAGO   •    DALLAS 
ATLANTA  •   SAN   FRANCISCO 

MACMILLAN  &  CO.,  Limited 

LONDON   •   BOMBAY   •    CALCUTTA 
MELBOURNE 

THE  MACMILLAN  CO.  OF  CANADA,  Ltd. 

TORONTO 


Daniel  Boone 

From  the  painting  by  Chester  Harding,  owned  by  Colonel  Reuben 
T.  Durrett,  of  Louisville,  Kentucky.      (See  page  240.) 


DANIEL    BOONE 


BY 

LUCILE   GULLIVER 


"  Still  do  ibe^^eperaiions  press  for  .rov«m,; 
And  svrely  th.^y  shall  have  it.     Tell  tLcm  cLis: 
Say,  '  Pooje,  the  oH  Stute-Builder,  hath  gone  torth 
Aga'n,  c'luCG  on  the;5unset;  and  that  there 
He  gi"e3  due  challenge  to  that  Indian  race 
Whose  lease  to  this  n^cjestic  Had,  misused, 
It  hath  pleased  God  to  caicel.'  " 

—  William  Ross  Wallace. 


THE   MACMILLAN    COMPANY 
1916 

AI/  righU  reserved 


Copyright,  1916, 


By  THE  MACMfLL^N^  COMPANY. 

•  „Saif.  upeanG  electrotyped.     PuMttltei  ^'^^h  1916 
•  /    •    •  •  .  •  «  . 


'    <■  *: 


-••' 

••;: 


«• 


•  :•.. 


••  •••   •  • 

••••  •  »    ,  * 

•     •     •     e 


Norlsooti  iPress 

J.  8.  Gushing  Co.  —  Berwick  <k  Smith  Co. 

Norwood,  Mass.,  U.S.A. 


CONTENTS 


CHAPTER   I 

PAGE 

A  Backward  Glance i 


CHAPTER   II 
Pennsylvania  Pioneers 6 

CHAPTER   III 
A  Plucky  Border  Boy 15 

CHAPTER   IV 
The  Journey  to  the  Yadkin 26 

CHAPTER  V 
Campaigning  with  Braddock 33 

CHAPTER  VI 
A  Pioneer  Wedding 43 

V 


v 


vi  CONTENTS 


CHAPTER  VII 

PAGE 

Fighting  the  Cherokees 55 


CHAPTER  VIII 
Exploring  New  Country 65 

CHAPTER   IX 
Among  Hostile  Indians 76 

CHAPTER  X 
Alone  in  the  Wilderness 91 

CHAPTER  XI 
The  Hero  of  the  Southwest 99 

CHAPTER  XII 
Making  the  Wilderness  Road        .        .        ,        .115 

CHAPTER  XIII 
Boone's  Settlement 130 


CONTENTS  vii 


CHAPTER   XIV 

rAGB 

"A  Land  Hard  to  Hold" 148 


CHAPTER  XV 
Boone  becomes  an  Indian 159 

CHAPTER  XVI 
The  Siege  of  the  Shawnees 170 

CHAPTER  XVII 
Public  Servant  and  Indian  Fighter     .        .        .189 

CHAPTER  XVIII 
The  Flight  from  Civilization        ....    208 

CHAPTER  XIX 
Traveling  toward  the  Sunset       ....    229 


LIST   OF    ILLUSTRATIONS 

Daniel  Boone Frofitispiece 

FACING    PAGE 

Boone's  First  Glimpse  of  Kentucky      ...      78 
The  Sycamore  Shoals  Treaty        .        .        .        .118 

Cumberland  Gap 192 

Boone's  Cabin  in  Missouri 230 

The  Boone  Monument  at  Cumberland  Gap  .    240 


DANIEL   BOONE 

CHAPTER  I 
A  Backward  Glance 

In  a  sheer  Southern  mountain  pass,  known  as 
Cumberland  Gap,  there  stands  a  monument  in 
honor  of  a  man  who  cut  a  road. 

Many  countries  have  had  important  highways. 
Some  have  been  wide  and  firm  to  please  ambitious 
kings.  Others,  rough  and  winding  up  and  down 
the  land,  have  been  worn  by  beasts  of  burden,  by 
soldiers,  or  similar  messengers  of  government  or 
trade.  Our  American  roadway  was  a  mere  trail, 
blazed  through  thicket  and  timber,  and  the  road- 
maker  was  a  backwoodsman. 

He  was  born  in  the  early  days  of  America,  when 
our  great  land  was  largely  wilderness,  with  white 
men  living  only  in  the  lowlands  east  of  the  Alle- 
ghany Mountains,  where  they  themselves  or  their 
fathers  had  settled  after  the  long  crossing  from  the 
Old  World.  Beyond  the  mountains,  as  far  as  the 
Pacific  Ocean,  lay  forests,  plains,  and  wastes,  un- 
known and  uninhabited  save  by  wild  creatures  and 

B  I 


2  DANIEL  BOONE 

hostile  Indians.  As  the  young  country  grew  in 
power  and  population,  the  EngKsh  colonists  needed 
this  virgin  land,  and  it  became  some  one's  duty  to 
blaze  a  trail  through  this  trackless  region  westward 
over  which  settlers  might  make  their  way. 

As  it  happened,  a  gaunt,  blue-eyed,  determined 
man,  then  living  in  North  Carolina,  Daniel  Boone 
by  name,  had  spent  many  years  hunting,  fighting, 
and  learning  the  ways  of  Indians  and  woodland 
beasts,  and  when  the  time  came  to  cleave  a  way 
through  this  western  wilderness,  he  was  able  and 
ready  to  do  it.  He  laid  his  plans,  gathered  to- 
gether his  volunteers,  and  in  the  spring  of  the 
year  disappeared  in  the  forest ;  and,  after  chopping 
and  burning  his  way  for  two  hundred  miles  through 
land  now  lying  in  North  Carolina,  Tennessee, 
Virginia,  and  Kentucky,  he  emerged  in  the  present 
Blue  Grass  region,  the  paradise  of  game  and  the 
fertile  land  for  which  the  settlers  longed.  The 
fame  of  his  achievement  spread  far  and  near,  and 
in  his  footsteps  followed  thousands  of  men,  women, 
and  children,  seeking  homes  in  this  wonderful  new 
country.  Along  his  trail  a  young  nation  took  its 
way. 

In  1775,  Daniel  Boone  left  behind  him  in  the 
wilderness  this  narrow  track  winding  from  east 
to  west.     For  twenty  years  emigrants   traversed 


A  BACKWARD  GLANCE  3 

it  on  foot  or  on  horseback  and  it  remained  little 
more  than  a  bridle-path.  Then,  by  order  of  the 
legislature,  Kentucky's  part  was  widened  for 
wagon  travel,  although  its  ledges,  sloughs,  and 
forest  dangers  were  hardly  lessened.  Later,  when 
more  favorable  courses  to  the  west  were  opened, 
portions  of  the  trail  fell  into  disuse,  and  brush  and 
trees  overgrew  them  and  once  more  claimed  them 
for  the  forest.  Yet  neither  wilderness  nor  time 
could  obliterate  the  memory  of  Daniel  Boone's 
Road. 

When  Boone  and  his  handful  of  road-makers 
came  down  from  the  mountains  and  passed  through 
Cumberland  Gap,  it  was  a  wild  notch  five  hundred 
feet  deep,  well  timbered  with  hard  woods  and 
abounding  in  game.  To-day  it  is  still  an  impressive 
cleft  through  the  hills,  but  no  longer  untamed  coun- 
try. On  a  certain  June  day,  in  1915,  a  thousand 
people  of  the  vicinity  and  from  a  greater  distance 
gathered  there  to  dedicate  a  monument  to  the 
picturesque  pioneer  who,  quite  unconscious  that 
he  was  cutting  one  of  the  historic  roadways  of  the 
world,  had  rested  in  that  Gap  almost  a  century 
and  a  half  before. 

In  a  way  the  celebration  was  a  double  one.  For 
some  years  the  Daughters  of  the  American  Revolu- 
tion, with  the  help  of  descendants  of  pioneers,  of 


4  DANIEL  BOONE 

old  inhabitants,  of  historians  and  government  maps, 
had  been  ferreting  out  the  lost  course  of  the  trail, 
and  had  succeeded  in  tracing  it  and  in  marking  its 
entire  length  from  Boone's  home  on  the  Yadkin 
River  in  the  Old  North  State  to  Boonesborough 
in  Kentucky,  where  the  road  ended  and  the  building 
of  the  West  began.  The  monument  in  Cumberland 
Gap  was  the  last  marker  of  the  long  series  of 
markers  that  were  placed,  and  celebrated  the  com- 
pletion of  the  patriotic  task  as  well  as  the  heroism 
of  the  great  backwoodsman  and  his  associates. 

The  memorial  stands  upon  a  slight  eminence.  It 
is  a  simple  structure  built  of  stone  and  has  four 
faces,  each  bearing  a  bronze  tablet  and  each  sym- 
bohzing  one  of  the  four  states  through  which  the 
trail  wound.  There  at  Cumberland  Gap  three  of 
these  states  meet  —  Kentucky,  Tennessee,  and  Vir- 
ginia —  and  from  the  pinnacle,  towering  above  the 
Gap,  the  other.  North  Carolina,  may  be  seen  beyond 
the  range.  With  fitting  ceremony  the  monument 
was  unveiled  and  presented  to  the  Commonwealth 
of  Kentucky,  received  in  the  name  of  the  governor, 
and  dedicated  with  many  glowing  tributes  to 
bravery,  sacrifice,  and  hardy  manhood.  Thus  in 
stone  and  tablet  have  Americans  remembered 
Daniel  Boone  and  his  Wilderness  Road. 

After  the  applause  had  died  away  and  the  guests 


A  BACKWARD   GLANCE  5 

had  enjoyed  lavish  Southern  hospitality,  the  cele- 
bration came  to  an  end,  and  merrily  on  foot  and 
horseback,  by  carriage  and  by  automobile,  the 
people  took  their  way  home.  The  monument  was 
left  alone  in  the  stillness  of  the  Gap  to  be  caressed 
by  sun  and  wind. 

Like  an  embodied  spirit  it  stands  there,  telling 
briefly  its  own  noble  story.  Yet  the  whole  story 
of  the  red-blood  life  of  a  man  like  Daniel  Boone  is 
a  long  one  because  he  served  his  country  in  thrilling 
days  and  because  he  was  very  human  and  lovable. 


CHAPTER  II 

Pennsylvania  Pioneers 

Daniel  Boone  may  have  inherited  his  spirit  of 
adventure.  His  grandfather,  George  Boone,  was  a 
weaver,  in  a  humble  way,  of  Bradnich,  near  Exeter, 
England,  where  he  was  a  member  of  the  Society  of 
Friends.  The  Quakers,  or  Friends,  suffered  many 
persecutions  on  account  of  their  religion,  and 
William  Penn,  one  of  their  number,  dreamed  of  a 
refuge  for  them  in  the  New  World. 

In  1682,  on  an  October  day  bright  with  autumn 
color,  he  sailed  up  the  Delaware  River  in  the  little 
English  bark  Welcome,  and  took  possession  of  a 
grant  of  land  made  him  by  King  Charles  II,  where 
he  intended  'Ho  lay  the  foundation  of  a  free  colony 
for  all  mankind"  and  for  the  Quakers  in  particular. 
In  honor  of  Penn's  father,  an  admiral,  this  new 
province  was  christened  Pennsylvania  by  Charles, 
but  Penn,  being  a  modest  man,  appealed  to  the 
king  and  offered  twenty  guineas  to  the  secretary 
to  change  it.  ''Had  he  appealed  to  the  secretary 
and  bribed  the  king,"  wrote  one  of  his  biographers 
facetiously,  "he  might  have  had  his  wish." 

6 


PENNSYLVANIA  PIONEERS  7 

As  time  wore  on,  glowing  reports  of  this  ''Holy 
Experiment,"  as  Penn's  colony  was  sometimes  called, 
reached  the  hamlet  near  Exeter,  and  George,  his 
wife,  and  their  seven  sons  and  two  daughters 
weighed  these  reports  seriously.  The  thought  of 
a  life  free  from  persecution  and  rich  in  the  spoils  of  a 
land  said  to  be  blossoming  Hke  the  rose  appealed 
to  them.  The  young  son  named  Squire,  especially 
curious,  longed  for  definite  information,  and  went 
about  picturing  this  far  paradise  as  best  he  could. 
News  came  all  too  slowly  in  those  days  to  suit  the 
impetuosity  of  youth,  and  after  many  family  con- 
sultations, Squire,  then  about  sixteen  years  of  age, 
accompanied  by  his  older  brother  George  and  his 
sister  Sarah,  sailed  from  England  in  a  small,  uncom- 
fortable, emigrant  ship  to  see  for  himself  the  pos- 
sibilities in  Pennsylvania.  As  Squire  set  forth 
upon  this  great  adventure,  wondering  and  planning 
in  boyish  fashion,  he  little  dreamed  that  his  voyage 
would  be  recorded  in  history  because  of  a  son, 
Daniel,  to  be  born  to  him  in  America. 

We  can  well  imagine  the  feverish  interest  of  the 
Boones  as  they  approached  Philadelphia  and  looked 
upon  the  crowd  wont  to  gather  on  the  shore  when- 
ever white  sails  were  seen.  Ships  beating  up  the 
Delaware  River  in  those  days  were  all-important, 
as  practically  everything  came  to  the  province  by 


8  DANIEL  BOONE 

sea.  English  and  Dutch  vessels  brought  news  and 
goods  from  the  Old  World  and  from  farther  ports, 
and  packets  plied  regularly  between  the  North  and 
South.  There  were  no  railroads,  and  the  four- 
horse  coaches,  rocking  along  between  towns  on 
the  eastern  coast,  were  slow  and  uncertain  carriers. 
So  Squire's  ship  was  welcomed  with  the  usual 
interest,  and  he  himself  came  on  shore,  finding 
there  a  touch  of  home  in  the  familiar  high-crowned 
Quaker  hat  and  Quaker  dress  of  gray. 

In  many  ways,  as  reports  had  said,  times  were 
prosperous,  especially  for  those  who  Hved  in  towns. 
The  young  capital  itself,  laid  out  in  checker-board 
regularity  according  to  Penn's  own  plans,  was  a 
substantial  Httle  community  of  comfortable  homes 
where  Squire  found  not  only  English  Quakers  but 
also  Welsh,  Scotch-Irish,  Swedish,  Dutch,  French, 
and  German  colonists  Hving  free  from  Old  World 
oppression. 

Now  and  then  he  saw  gayly  clad  Indians  stealing 
silently  along  the  streets,  and  from  the  wharves 
he  watched  ships  from  far  parts  of  the  world,  parts 
even  as  distant  as  Surinam  and  the  French  division 
of  Hispaniola.  Trade  kept  laborers  and  merchants 
alert  and  busy,  and  made  it  possible  for  well-to-do 
housewives  to  procure  furnishings  and  table  deli- 
cacies so  fine  that  even  worthies  mentioned  them 
in  their  diaries. 


PENNSYLVANIA  PIONEERS  9 

'^A  most  sinful  feast!"  one  of  these  some  years 
later  said  of  a  Philadelphia  dinner.  ''Everything 
which  could  delight  the  eye  or  allure  the  taste ; 
curds  and  creams,  jelhes,  sweetmeats  of  various 
kinds,  twenty  sorts  of  tarts,  fools,  trifles,  floating 
islands,  whipped  sillabubs,  almonds,  pears  and 
peaches." 

A  visiting  French  prince  remembered  a  certain 
tea  party  with  equal  pleasure.  ''The  house  is 
small,  but  well  ordered  and  neat,"  he  wrote ;  "the 
doors  and  tables  of  superb,  well-poKshed  mahogany ; 
the  locks  and  andirons  of  polished  brass.  ...  I 
took  some  of  the  excellent  tea  and  would  have  taken 
more  I  think,  if  the  Ambassador  had  not  kindly 
warned  me  at  the  twelfth  cup  that  I  must  put  my 
spoon  across  my  cup  when  I  wished  to  bring  this 
warm  water  question  to  an  end." 

In  spite  of  its  busy  and  prosperous  air,  however, 
Philadelphia  was  Httle  more  than  a  village,  with  the 
frontier  of  the  great  western  wilderness  distant 
only  a  few  miles  from  its  outlying  fields  and 
orchards.  There,  in  the  border  settlements,  life 
was  far  different.  Houses  were  rude,  unhewn  log 
cabins,  erected  in  clearings  and  bounded  by  dense 
woodland  full  of  sharp,  wild  eyes  spying  upon 
human  intruders.  House  furnishings  and  clothing 
were  equally  crude,  creature  comforts  few,  and. 


lO  DANIEL  BOONE     • 

had  it  not  been  for  the  great  fireplace  built  in  one 
end  of  each  cabin,  and  for  the  iron  pot,  hanging 
from  the  crane  and  puffing  forth  savory  odors, 
these  cabins  would  have  seemed  little  like  homes. 
Even  tea  and  coffee  were  practically  unknown  on 
the  frontier  or  were  regarded  as  ''slops  which  did 
not  stick  by  the  ribs."  One  pioneer,  born  on  the 
border,  recorded  his  earliest  recollections  of  a  tea- 
cup and  saucer  and  of  coffee.  While  traveling  as  a 
boy,  he  spent  a  night  at  an  inn. 

''When  supper  came  on,"  he  says,  "a  little  cup 
stood  in  a  bigger  one  with  some  brownish-looking 
stuff  in  it,  which  was  neither  milk,  hominy  nor 
broth.  What  to  do  with  these  little  cups  and  the 
spoon  belonging  to  them  I  could  not  tell,  and  I  was 
afraid  to  ask.  ...  I  therefore  watched  attentively 
to  see  what  the  big  folks  would  do  with  their  little 
cups  and  spoons.  I  imitated  them,  and  found  the 
taste  of  the  coffee  disagreeable  beyond  anything 
I  ever  had  tasted  in  my  life.  I  continued  to  drink 
as  the  rest  of  the  company  did,  with  the  tears 
streaming  from  my  eyes,  but  when  it  was  to  end 
I  was  at  a  loss  to  know,  as  the  little  cups  were  filled 
immediately  after  being  emptied.  This  circum- 
stance distressed  me  very  much,  as  I  durst  not  say 
I  had  had  enough.  Looking  attentively  at  the 
grown  persons,  I  saw  one  man  turn  his  little  cup 


PENNSYLVANIA  PIONEERS  ii 

bottom  upwards  and  put  his  little  spoon  across  it. 
I  observed  that  after  this  his  cup  was  not  filled 
again.  I  followed  his  example,  and  to  my  great 
satisfaction,  the  result  as  to  my  cup  was  the  same." 

Squire  had  never  known  luxuries,  and  boyhke 
preferred  the  wilds  about  Philadelphia,  where  he 
roamed  at  will,  while  Sarah  Boone  met  and  married 
a  German.  Squire's  brother  George,  confident  in 
the  future,  returned  to  England  to  report  to  his 
parents,  and,  when  all  could  be  made  ready,  to 
pilot  them  and  the  other  children  across  the  sea. 
The  elder  Boones  bravely  dismantled  their  home, 
bade  farewell  to  old  associations,  and  in  October, 
17 1 7,  after  a  journey  of  two  months,  a  courageous 
journey  and  perhaps  a  sad  one,  they  all  landed  in 
Philadelphia. 

The  Boones  hngered  there  only  a  short  time.  As 
they  preferred  the  country,  they  became  a  frontier 
family  at  once,  welcoming  the  hardships  of  border 
life.  After  brief  stays  in  Abingdon  and  North 
Wales,  they  settled  on  the  edge  of  the  wood  in 
Oley  Township,  in  the  beautiful  valley  of  the 
Schuylkill  River,  where  the  elder  George  Boone 
lived  out  his  days. 

Squire,  meanwhile,  after  his  explorations,  had 
chosen  to  become  a  backwoodsman  in  North  Wales, 
a  hamlet  of  Welsh  Quakers.     The  young  men  wel- 


12  DANIEL  BOONE 

corned  this  ''man  of  rather  small  stature,  fair  com- 
plexion, and  gray  eyes,"  introduced  him  to  their 
families,  and  made  him  feel  at  home ;  and  in  time 
he  fell  in  love  with  a  certain  Sarah  Morgan,  "a 
woman  something  over  the  common  size,  strong  and 
active,  with  black  hair  and  eyes,  and  raised  in  the 
Quaker  order."  According  to  Quaker  usage,  they 
probably  announced  that  "with  Divine  permission 
and  Friends'  approbation  they  intended  to  marry 
each  other,"  and  after  it  was  decided  that  the 
young  people  were  "at  liberty  to  accomplish  their 
marriage,"  they  were  made  man  and  wife  on  July 
23,  1720,  in  the  little  Quaker  meetinghouse  of 
Gwynedd  Township.  Friends  and  relatives  feted 
them  after  the  fashion  of  Quaker  merrymaking  — 
custom  permitting  the  marriage  day  to  "be  charac- 
terized by  cheerful  enjoyment  provided  that  those 
concerned  do  not  pass  the  boundary  line  of  Chris- 
tian simplicity  and  prudence"  —  and  then  they 
settled  down  as  poor  but  thrifty  "borderers"  in  a 
mere  cabin,  small  and  rough  and  bare,  and  built 
probably  on  rented  land.  Fortunately,  "doors  and 
windows  of  superb  mahogany"  and  "twenty  sorts 
of  tarts  "  were  not  necessary  to  contentment. 

Early  in  the  morning  the  border  people  rose.  No 
eight-hour  day  was  theirs ;  their  work  lasted  from 
sunrise  to  sunset,  day  in  and  day  out,  alike  in  good 


PENNSYLVANIA  PIONEERS  13 

times  and  bad.  After  the  cows  had  been  milked 
and  sent  to  pasture,  and  after  breakfast  had  been 
eaten  and  the  daily  chores  done,  the  men  farmed, 
hunted,  or  pursued  a  trade  in  a  small  way.  The 
women  cooked  and  minded  the  dairy ;  mended,  spun 
and  wove ;  made  clothes  and  moccasins ;  weeded 
and  hoed  in  the  vegetable  patch,  and  all  the  day  had 
an  eye  to  the  children  who  were  quite  as  lively  and 
mischievous  in  those  times  as  now.  As  we  look 
back  upon  this  border  life,  so  wild  and  fresh,  it 
appears  rather  pleasant.  We  forget  the  days  of 
rain  and  snow,  of  tired  bodies  and  aching  backs,  of 
illness,  of  poverty  and  discouragement.  A  hard 
and  weary  life  it  was  in  reahty,  a  life  to  develop 
heroes. 

Twelve  years  or  so  passed  in  the  Boone  cabin  in 
North  Wales.  With  much  labor  the  adjacent  land 
had  been  cleared,  a  garden-patch  had  been  made  to 
flourish  within  the  inclosure,  a  loom  had  been 
installed  in  the  cabin  as  Squire  had  learned  his 
father's  trade,  and  with  much  thrift  and  forbearance 
a  tiny  sum  of  money  had  been  laid  away  for  a  farm 
which  they  hoped  some  day  to  purchase.  No  longer 
were  Squire  and  Sarah  alone,  for  four  children 
brightened  the  little  cabin  and  kept  their  mother 
busy  supplying  clothing  for  small,  active  bodies  and 
food  for  good  appetites. 


14  DANIEL  BOONE 

About  this  time  they  decided  to  move  from  North 
Wales  to  Oley  Township,  in  the  Berks  County  of 
to-day,  where,  with  their  savings,  they  were  able 
to  buy  two  hundred  and  fifty  acres  of  land,  situated 
on  a  creek  and  lying  about  eight  miles  from  the 
present  city  of  Reading.  Grandfather  Boone,  as 
well  as  other  members  of  the  family,  lived  not  far 
away,  and  there  is  little  doubt  but  that  Friends 
helped  Squire  Boone  to  clear  his  land  and  build 
his  log  cabin,  the  kindest  welcome  to  newcomers  in 
a  country  region. 

At  last  Squire  Boone  was  an  independent  man, 
owning  his  land  and  his  house,  which  was  bare  and 
simple,  however,  as  the  Boones  were  still  poor,  and 
life  in  Oley,  as  in  North  Wales,  was  filled  with  sever- 
ity and  hardship.  Perhaps,  as  the  family  sat  about 
the  new  hearth  and  heard  the  wind  blowing  in  their 
own  strange  woodland,  this  second  home  may  have 
seemed  happier  than  the  old  one,  because  of  the 
hard  work  and  self-denial  which  had  made  it 
possible. 

Here,  in  the  Pennsylvania  wilderness  of  the 
Schuylkill  Valley,  Daniel  Boone  was  born  on 
November  2,  1734.  To-day  the  date  of  his  birth 
is  memorable,  yet  no  one  at  the  time,  least  of  all 
his  parents,  dreamed  that  this  boy  would  make  a 
stir  in  the  world. 


CHAPTER  HI 
A  Plucky  Border  Boy 

Being  a  frontier  baby  and  the  sixth  in  the  family, 
little  fuss  was  made  over  Daniel.  He  was  given 
border  fare  and  brought  up  in  border  ways,  and 
probably  left  largely  to  amuse  himself  and  to  follow 
the  example  of  his  older  brothers  and  sisters. 
Unfortunately,  records  of  the  first  ten  years  of  his 
life  are  all  too  meager,  but  we  know  well  that  a 
pioneer's  cabin  was  an  absorbing  place  in  which  to 
be  a  boy. 

Without  doubt  Daniel  sat  on  a  three-legged  stool, 
and  slept  in  a  wooden  bunk,  and  ate  at  a  split-slab 
table,  set  with  wooden  bowls,  trenchers,  and  noggins, 
with  gourds  and  hard-shelled  squashes  for  extra 
dishes.  China  was  too  expensive  and  impractical 
for  pioneers.  In  some  households,  food  was  served 
in  a  large  trencher,  or  platter,  in  the  center  of  the 
table,  from  which  all  the  family  ate;  in  others, 
the  head  of  the  house  served  each  member. 

And  how  good  the  food  tasted  seasoned  with 
woodland  appetites !  At  breakfast  there  was 
johnny-cake  and  perhaps  pone;    at  dinner,  "hog 

IS 


i6  DANIEL  BOONE 

and  hominy"  or  wild  meat  and  vegetables ;  at  sup- 
per, milk  and  mush. 

The  cooking  was  done  in  the  fireplace.  The 
great  fire  there,  furnishing  heat  and  ventilation, 
was  never  expected  to  go  out.  If  it  did,  some  one 
had  to  go  to  a  neighbor  to  ''borrow  fire,"  a  shovel 
of  coals  or  a  burning  brand,  or  had  to  strike  a  spark 
with  flint  and  steel  and  catch  it  on  a  bit  of  rag  or 
tow,  as  matches  were  unknown.  The  fire  kept  up 
a  merry  blaze,  which  at  night  flickered  on  Squire 
Boone's  hunting  arms  and  garments  and  on  the 
clothes  of  the  family  hanging  from  wooden  pegs 
around  the  walls.  An  early  historian  says  that 
such  open  wardrobes  ''announced  to  the  stranger 
as  well  as  to  the  neighbor  the  wealth  or  poverty 
of  a  family  in  their  articles  of  clothing." 

Mrs.  Boone  stepped  briskly  about  the  cabin, 
busy  at  her  many  tasks.  In  summer  she  probably 
went  barefooted,  but  in  cold  weather  moccasins 
were  worn.  The  usual  dress  of  border  women  con- 
sisted of  a  petticoat  and  bed  gown,  a  kind  of  dressing 
sack,  made  of  linsey,  a  warm,  substantial  cloth  of 
flax  and  wool ;  a  kerchief  neatly  crossed  about  the 
neck,  and  a  sunbonnet  of  linen. 

The  men's  attire  was  patterned  somewhat  after 
Indian  fashion  —  a  long  hunting-shirt  of  linsey, 
coarse  linen,  or   of   dressed    deerskins;     trousers 


A  PLUCKY  BORDER  BOY  17 

and  leggings  of  cloth  or  skin,  and  deerskin  moc- 
casins. The  latter  were  little  protection  in  cold 
or  wet  weather,  when  ''wearing  them,"  it  was  said, 
''was  only  a  decent  way  of  going  barefooted." 
The  belt,  which  was  always  tied  behind,  answered 
several  purposes  besides  that  of  holding  clothing 
together.  In  winter  the  mittens  and  sometimes 
the  bullet-pouch  occupied  the  front  part  of  it.  At 
the  right  side  was  hung  the  tomahawk  and  to  the 
left  the  scalping  knife  in  a  leather  sheath.  In  the 
bosom  of  his  shirt  a  hunter  stowed  his  luncheon  of 
bread,  cake,  and  jerk,^  as  well  as  tow  for  wiping 
the  rifle  barrel.  Without  doubt  Daniel  longed  for 
the  day  to  come  when  he,  too,  might  be  a  hunter 
and  go  forth  clad  like  his  father. 

But  Squire  Boone  hunted  only  from  necessity. 
He  attended  to  his  small  farm,  kept  several  looms 
busy  weaving  "homespun,"  and  now  and  then  made 
the  welkin  ring  with  the  cHnk  of  anvil  and  ham- 
mer, for  he  had  become  a  blacksmith  also.  In  odd 
moments  he  mended  and  tinkered  about  the  place, 
filled  his  powderhorn,  and  cleaned  and  poHshed  his 
rifle,  tasks  which  Daniel  must  have  longed  to  do 
himself,  if  the  saying  is  true  that  "childhood  shows 
the  man  as  morning  shows  the  day." 

1  Smoked  meat  dried  in  the  sun  and  cut  into  long  slices  or 
strips. 

c 


i8  DANIEL  BOONE 

In  pioneer  times  each  family  was  obliged  to  do 
everything  for  themselves  as  well  as  they  could. 
They  were  their  own  carpenters,  tailors,  tanners, 
cobblers,  weavers,  servants,  butchers,  bakers,  and 
candlestick  makers.  So  Daniel  at  an  early  age 
began  to  do  his  small  share  of  a  backwoodsman's 
work.  He  was  taught  to  build  a  fire  on  the  hearth 
with  a  huge  "back  log"  and  a  ''fore  stick,"  and  to 
save  the  ashes  for  soft  soap  which  every  housewife 
made.  He  helped  in  the  ''truck  patch"  to  raise 
corn,  pumpkins,  squashes,  beans,  and  potatoes, 
w^hich  in  the  late  summer  and  autumn  were  cooked 
with  pork,  venison,  and  bear  meat.  He  learned 
the  knack  of  grinding  Indian  corn  for  johnny-cake 
and  mush,  and  of  pounding  grain  into  meal.  He 
learned  that  firewood  was  generally  cut  in  the  early 
part  of  the  winter  and  that  by  the  first  of  April  it 
should  be  hauled,  chopped,  and  piled.  Yet  best  of 
all  were  the  lessons  taught  in  the  woods  where  he 
became  famihar  with  trees,  birds,  and  animals,  and 
was  shown  how  to  set  traps,  to  follow  trails,  and, 
above  all,  to  conceal  his  own. 

Surely  this  more  or  less  serious  work  was 
tempered  with  much  mischief.  Very  likely  Daniel 
often  wandered  too  far  into  the  woods  and  came 
home  late  to  supper,  or  slipped  away  to  go  fishing 
and  fell  into  the  creek,  much  to  his  own  shame  and 


A  PLUCKY  BORDER  BOY  19 

his  mother's  dismay.  With  the  other  children  he 
may  have  made  the  little  cabin  ring  with  merriment 
as  the  family  sat  at  evening  in  the  candle-light, 
Mrs.  Boone  making  and  mending  garments,  while 
Squire  Boone  deftly  patched  their  moccasins  with 
deerskin  thongs.  Whatever  may  have  happened 
in  his  earliest  years,  we  know  that  Daniel  was  a 
bright,  healthy  boy,  and  that  it  was  his  good  fortune 
to  have  been  born  in  poverty  with  the  great  out- 
of-doors  as  his  playground.  The  surroundings  and 
the  playthings  of  his  infancy  and  youth  were  the 
ones  to  fit  him  for  his  life  work. 

When  Daniel  was  ten  years  old,  it  was  the  custom, 
as  it  is  to-day  in  certain  country  regions,  to  turn 
out  the  cows  to  pasture  when  spring  was  in  the  air 
and  to  let  them  remain  until  the  late  autumn. 
Accordingly,  when  the  season  came.  Squire  Boone's 
cows  were  driven  from  the  homestead  to  a  pasture 
some  five  miles  distant,  and  with  them  went  Daniel 
and  his  mother.  All  eagerly  the  barefooted, 
freckled  urchin  drove  the  cows  down  the  lane  and 
out  into  the  road.  None  too  soon  could  he  get  to 
the  pasture  and  begin  the  long  summer  quite  alone, 
save  for  his  mother,  with  the  herd  and  the  wild 
creatures  of  the  fields  and  woods.  Mrs.  Boone 
may  have  found  less  pleasure  than  Daniel  in  the 
annual  departure,  leaving  behind  her,  as  she  did, 


20  DANIEL  BOONE 

her  husband  and  her  other  children.  We  know, 
however,  that  she  was  very  devoted  to  Daniel,  one 
historian  referring  to  him  as  her  ''favorite  son,"  and 
probably  her  days  in  the  pasture  with  him  were  a 

joy- 

They  lived  together  in  a  tiny  cabin,  near  which 
were  a  spring  and  dairy-house  where  Mrs.  Boone 
busied  herself  making  butter  and  cheese.  It  was 
Daniel's  work  to  tend  the  cows.  During  those 
summer  days  he  was  out  of  bed  at  sunrise  and  ready 
to  drive  the  cattle  to  pasture  after  their  morning 
milking.  He  was  expected  to  follow  them  hour  on 
hour  as  they  roamed  about  grazing,  keeping  with 
them,  or  at  least  within  sound  of  the  tinkling  bells 
of  their  leaders.  When  late  afternoon  came,  he 
drove  them  back  again  through  the  woods  and 
clearing,  and,  after  the  evening  milking,  locked  them 
securely  in  the  pens.  Such  a  life  out-of-doors,  with 
no  work  to  keep  mind  and  hands  occupied,  gave 
him  opportunity  to  see  for  himself  all  the  ways 
of  nature.  He  had  ample  time  in  which  to  watch 
and  think  and  listen  —  to  learn  to  walk  through 
underbrush  and  thicket  as  silently  as  an  Indian,  to 
imitate  the  notes  and  calls  of  birds  and  animals,  to 
tell  the  time  of  day  by  the  sun's  position  in  the  sky, 
to  find  the  points  of  compass  by  moss  and  bark, 
always  thicker  on  the  north  side  of  tree  trunks. 


A  PLUCKY  BORDER  BOY  21 

to  distinguish  storm  clouds,  and  predict  weather 
from  the  wind.  In  the  wide  stilhiess,  broken  only 
by  the  crunch  and  nibbling  of  the  cattle,  the  chim- 
ing of  their  bells,  and  the  sounds  of  nature  itself, 
Daniel  became  wise  in  the  very  knowledge  which 
was  to  be  so  necessary  to  him  as  a  pioneer. 

Even  when  Daniel  was  so  young,  his  love  of  hunt- 
ing was  evident.  For  long  hours  he  lay  in  hiding, 
spying  upon  squirrels,  birds,  and  chipmunks  as  they 
went  about  their  secret  business.  His  chief  weapon 
was  the  root  end  of  a  young  tree  —  gnarled,  tough, 
and  smoothly  poHshed  —  which  he  trained  himself 
to  throw  with  exquisite  skill.  The  days  of  this  crude 
missile  were  numbered.  When  Daniel  was  twelve 
years  old.  Squire  Boone  gave  his  son  a  light  rifle,  and 
with  such  a  possession  Daniel,  boylike,  considered 
himself  a  full-fledged  hunter.  Quite  forgetful  of 
his  duty  as  herdboy,  he  would  wander  far  from  the 
cows,  intent  only  on  his  gun  and  the  game  which  it 
would  win  for  him ;  and  the  cows  sometimes  strayed 
too  far  and  were  found  only  after  much  searching 
and  calling  in  the  night. 

Daniel's  parents  were  wise,  and  instead  of  punish- 
ing their  boy  for  his  neglect,  they  put  his  abiHty  to 
use  and  commissioned  him  to  supply  the  meat  for 
their  table.  Nothing  could  have  made  Daniel 
happier.     As  each  summer  passed  and  the  cows 


22  DANIEL  BOONE 

were  driven  back  to  the  homestead,  Daniel  began  a 
long  winter  of  hunting.  Over  mountains,  along 
valleys,  across  streams,  he  roved  as  pleased  him  best 
in  all  kinds  of  wind  and  weather,  learning  secrets 
in  the  snow  which  nature  could  not  teach  him  in 
summer.  The  game  which  he  killed  he  cured  for 
the  family,  and  the  skins  he  carried  to  Philadelphia, 
some  fifty  miles  east  of  Oley,  where  he  saw  a  bit  of 
the  world  —  as  his  father  had  when  a  boy  —  and 
there  sold  them  for  hunting  suppHes.  When  he 
was  not  busy  either  as  herdboy  or  hunter,  he  turned 
blacksmith.  Yet  in  iron  work,  as  in  all  else,  his  in- 
stinct for  hunting  revealed  itself.  His  chief  skill 
lay  in  the  making  and  mending  of  guns  and  traps. 

In  those  frontier  days,  boys  and  girls  received 
Httle  training  from  school-teachers.  When  they 
did  attend  school  they  sat  upon  wooden  benches 
in  a  little  log  hut,  and  had  lessons  in  the  spelHng- 
book  and  Psalter,  and  in  writing  and  arithmetic. 
As  far  as  we  know,  Daniel  received  no  regular 
schooling,  although  some  historians  say  that  he 
attended  a  ''field"  school  taught  by  an  Irishman  for 
whom  he  had  little  respect  and  upon  whom  he 
played  various  unusual  pranks.  He  gained  his 
first  knowledge  of  nature  from  his  father,  as  he 
followed  him  about  the  farm  or  went  with  him  into 
the  woods,  increasing  this  knowledge  later  on  by  his 


A  PLUCKY  BORDER  BOY  23 

wanderings  alone.  In  the  dusk  of  summer  evenings 
in  the  pasture,  as  Daniel  and  his  mother  sat  to- 
gether, doubtless  he  reported  his  adventures  and 
discoveries  of  the  day,  and  Mrs.  Boone,  being  an 
intelligent  woman,  discussed  them  with  him.  Very 
likely  from  these  simple  stories  of  nature  she  taught 
Daniel  the  great  principles  of  human  life  as  only  a 
mother  can. 

When  Daniel  was  fourteen  years  old,  his  brother 
Samuel  married  Sarah  Day,  a  Quakeress  of  more 
than  ordinary  attainments,  and,  being  interested  in 
her  young  brother-in-law,  she  taught  him  to  read, 
write,  and  cipher.  To  her  and  to  his  mother  Daniel 
owed  his  early  education.  With  their  training, 
"he  could  read  understandingly,  do  rough  sur- 
veying, keep  notes  of  his  work,  and  write  a  sensible 
though  badly-spelled  letter." 

Nowadays  girls  and  boys  of  fourteen  are  usually 
ready  to  graduate  from  the  grammar  school.  How 
different  it  was  with  Daniel !  Of  book  knowledge 
he  had  had  only  the  first  lessons.  Yet  he  could 
trap  the  bear  and  beaver ;  he  could  bring  down  the 
wild  cat  and  the  panther.  The  secrets  of  green 
things  and  of  all  creatures  living  in  the  countryside 
through  which  he  roamed  were  plain  to  him,  and  he 
knew  also  the  best  use  of  the  loom,  the  anvil,  and 
the  hammer. 


24  DANIEL  BOONE 

Frequently  during  these  years  of  growing  up, 
Daniel  saw  Indians.  The  red  men  of  Pennsylvania 
often  came  to  the  border  settlements  and  even  went 
into  the  towns,  and  their  errands  were  always 
friendly.  William  Penn  had  pledged  them  his 
faith  when  he  came  to  their  country,  and  they  in 
turn  had  promised  to  "Uvq  in  love  with  him  and  his 
children  as  long  as  the  moon  and  the  sun  shall 
endure."  Those  simple  words,  uttered  under  a 
wide-spreading  elm  near  Philadelphia,  remained 
words  of  unbroken  faith  as  long  as  the  Quakers  held 
control  in  the  province.  Daniel  used  to  catch 
glimpses  of  them  now  and  then,  as  they  stole  out  of 
the  woods  and  along  the  roads  to  trade  or  purchase 
supplies.  He  watched  their  quick  manner,  their 
sharp  eyes,  their  impassive  faces.  When  their 
business  was  over,  he  saw  them  return  and  disap- 
pear among  the  trees  as  silently  as  they  had  come, 
and  it  is  no  wonder  that  to  him  they  were  strange 
and  fascinating  men.  Certain  of  them  became 
converted  to  Christianity  by  a  Moravian  mission- 
ary, and  held  a  meeting  in  Squire  Boone's  barn.  A 
wonderful  gathering  it  must  have  seemed  to  Daniel 
—  the  savages  in  their  picturesque  costumes,  the 
missionary  from  far-away,  and  the  Quaker  neigh- 
bors, all  joining  in  the  simple  service. 

These  frequent  glimpses  of  Indians  and  his  knowl- 


A  PLUCKY  BORDER  BOY  25 

edge  of  their  characteristics  served  him  well  in  later 
years,  but  at  that  time  they  filled  him  with  curiosity. 
The  Indians  came  from  far  parts  of  the  forest,  parts 
which  he  did  not  know,  and  he  longed  to  make  his 
way  thither  and  to  see  for  himself  the  real  wilderness 
beyond  civilization.  He  determined  that  some  day 
he  would  satisfy  this  desire  —  and  he  did. 


CHAPTER  IV 

The  Journey  to  the  Yadkin 

Daniel's  life  in  Oley  passed  happily  and  unevent- 
fully until  he  was  sixteen  years  old.  Then,  for  some 
good  reason  which  history  has  failed  to  record, 
Squire  Boone  decided  to  sell  his  lands  and  certain 
of  his  stock,  and  move  southward  into  the  valley  of 
the  Yadkin  River  in  North  Carolina. 

By  this  time  there  were  eleven  children  in  the 
Boone  household  —  Sarah,  Israel,  Samuel,  Jon- 
athan, Elizabeth,  Daniel,  Mary,  George,  Edward, 
Squire,  and  Hannah  —  and  their  father  may  have 
feared  that  the  younger  of  them  would  fail  to  find 
good  homesteads  in  the  province,  since  much  of 
the  choice  land  of  eastern  Pennsylvania  had  already 
been  settled.  Perhaps  the  appearance  in  the  region 
of  many  unusual  immigrants  of  strange  faiths,  such 
as  the  Mennonites,  Dunkards,  and  Schwenkfelders, 
made  Squire  Boone  long  for  more  freedom  and  the 
isolation  so  dear  to  backwoodsmen.  Perhaps  his 
relation  with  the  Quakers,  by  no  means  a  happy 
one,  made  a  move  seem  desirable.  It  is  recorded 
that  various  members  of  the  Boone  family  were 

26 


THE  JOURNEY  TO  THE  YADKIN  27 

^'sometimes  rather  too  belligerent  and  self-willed" 
and  had  ''occasionally  to  be  dealt  with  by  the  meet- 
ing." His  daughter  Sarah  and  his  son  Israel  mar- 
ried ''worldlings/'  or  those  outside  the  faith,  and 
were  "disowned"  by  the  Society  of  Friends.  Later 
Squire  himself  was  "disowned"  because  he  looked 
approvingly  upon  these  acts  of  his  children.  What- 
ever finally  persuaded  him  to  leave  Oley  really 
matters  little.  The  importance  of  the  event  lies 
in  the  change  it  wrought  in  Daniel's  life  and  in  the 
opportunities  for  development  which  it  gave  him. 
Squire  Boone  could  but  choose  to  travel  south- 
ward, if  he  desired  good  farm  land  and  hunting- 
ground.  To  the  west  of  the  border  settlements  in 
Pennsylvania  lay  the  Alleghany  Mountains,  extend- 
ing north  and  south  across  the  province  and  as  far 
south  as  Georgia,  a  barrier  to  westward  emigration. 
To  the  south,  however,  were  many  deep  and  fertile 
valleys  between  the  Blue  Ridge  and  the  Alleghanies, 
and  these  were  easily  accessible  to  those  who  had  the 
hardihood  to  endure  long  journeys  and  the  usual 
privations  of  pioneering.  Land  was  to  be  had  for 
"taking  up,"  as  the  old  saying  went,  or  for  building 
and  planting.  Sometimes  early  settlers  claimed 
land  by  "tomahawk  right,"  an  inferior  kind  of 
land-title  secured  by  deadening  a  few  trees  near  a 
spring  or  by  cutting  on  them  the  initials  of  the 


28  DANIEL  BOONE 

claimant.  Such  vague  registry  of  property  rights, 
even  if  assured  by  a  warrant,  naturally  provoked 
many  quarrels,  as  ^'tomahawk  rights"  were  often 
coveted  and  could  be  transferred,  one  lad,  it  is 
said,  selling  two  hundred  choice  acres  for  ''a  cow 
and  calf  and  a  wool  hat." 

Long  years  before,  in  1666,  to  be  exact,  an  emigra- 
tion agent  of  London  issued  a  brief  description  of 
the  province  of  Carolina,  setting  forth  therein  ''the 
Healthfulness  of  the  Air,  the  Fertility  of  the  Earth 
and  Water,  and  the  great  Pleasure  and  Profit  to 
accrue  to  those  that  shall  go  thither  to  enjoy  the 
same." 

The  many  Irish,  German,  and  Quaker  settlers  of 
Pennsylvania,  who  began  about  1732  to  push  their 
way  through  Maryland  and  Virginia  to  the  upper 
waters  of  the  Yadkin  River  in  the  northwest  section 
of  North  Carolina,  described  this  southern  country 
with  equal  enthusiasm.  The  climate  there  proved 
mild  and  the  country  beautiful.  The  soil  yielded 
quickly  to  cultivation  and  bore  fruitfully,  and  game 
was  abundant.  Indian  depredations  at  that  time 
were  infrequent,  as  the  Catawbas  and  Cherokees 
came  to  the  settlements  seeking  trade,  and  the  hostile 
Shawnees  seldom  raided  the  valley.  The  reports 
which  drifted  back  to  Oley  proved  irresistible  to  a 
man  like  Squire  Boone,  who  still  retained  the  spirit 


THE  JOURNEY  TO  THE  YADKIN  29 

of  adventure  which  had  brought  him  as  a  boy  across 
the  sea,  and  eventually  the  decision  to  move  south 
was  made. 

In  the  spring  of  1750,  probably  in  the  month  of 
April,  the  Boones  were  ready  for  the  exodus.     The 
women  and  children  were  stowed  in  canvas-covered 
wagons  stocked  with  necessities  for  a  journey  of 
five  hundred  miles,  and  the  men  and  boys  kept 
guard  on  horseback  and  drove  the  cattle.     Slowly 
the  Httle  caravan  wound  its  way  along  the  familiar 
fields  and  woods  and  out  of  Oley  Township,  a  sad 
and  yet  a  happy  train,  and  the  new  Hfe  was  begun. 
Their  course  lay  southward  through  Pennsyl- 
vania to  the  Potomac  River  and  Harper's  Ferry,  and 
thence  up  the  picturesque  valley  of  the  Shenandoah. 
At   night   they   pitched    camp,    rounded   up    the 
animals,  hobbled  the  horses,  built  a  great  fire,  and 
sat  about  it  for  supper  and  the  evening's  rest ;  and, 
when  bedtime  came,  they  placed  a  watch  against 
Indians  and  wild  beasts.     By  day  they  journeyed 
slowly  on,  and  all  the  time  Daniel  was  the  party's 
scout  and  hunter.     It  was  his  duty  to  supply  fresh 
meat,  and,  after  he  had  selected  the  easiest  course 
for  the  wagons,  to  pilot  the  party  through  the 
unknown  regions  before  them.     Such  responsibihty 
was  excellent  discipline  as  well  as  genuine  pleasure 
for  a  lad  like  Daniel. 


30  DANIEL  BOONE 

He  thoroughly  explored  the  woods,  searched  them 
for  firm  and  level  ground,  and  chose  good  halting- 
places,  if  possible  near  water  and  pasturage.  Many 
hills  he  climbed  for  a  distant  view,  and  many  deep, 
dark  gorges  he  penetrated,  always  curious  and 
always  learning.  On  the  way  he  fished  for  trout  in 
the  cool  streams,  saw  and  brought  down  game  in 
plenty,  and  in  their  season  picked  medlars,  mulber- 
ries, and  wild  cherries  for  his  mother,  who  probably 
superintended  the  cooking  for  the  hungry  caravan. 
Unfortunately,  few  details  of  the  journey  have  been 
preserved ;  yet  we  do  know  that  the  family  lingered 
long  on  the  way  from  sheer  enjoyment  of  the 
country. 

At  length,  in  the  autumn  of  175 1,  the  Boone  fam- 
ily passed  along  the  valley  of  Virginia  into  Davie 
County,  North  Carolina,  where  the  plain  between 
the  Yadkin  and  the  Catawba  rivers  seemed  to 
promise  all  that  pioneers  could  ask.  Squire  Boone 
considered  the  region  carefully,  and,  relying  on  the 
experience  of  many  years  of  farming,  selected  a  claim 
at  Buffalo  Lick,  where  Dutchman's  Creek  flows  into 
the  North  Yadkin,  a  few  miles  from  the  present  site 
of  Wilkesboro. 

Even  to-day  in  various  parts  of  North  Carolina 
there  is  excellent  hunting,  but  in  those  times  the 
valley  of  the  Yadkin  was  wholly  untamed,  and  large 


THE  JOURNEY  TO  THE  YADKIN    31 

numbers  of  animals  came  from  the  plain  and  from 
the  mountain  range  to  the  westward  to  lick  the  salt 
deposited  at  its  salt-springs.  The  work  of  clearing 
the  land  and  of  building  cabins  for  Squire  Boone  and 
for  his  married  children  and  relatives  who  had  left 
Oley,  began  at  once,  Daniel  doing  his  share  of  work 
of  all  kinds.  Soon  the  pungent  odor  of  hearth 
fires  was  wafted  down  the  valley,  and  the  usual 
pursuits  of  Oley  were  renewed. 

By  this  time  Daniel  was  a  lad  of  eighteen,  grown 
to  be  five  feet  and  ten  inches  tall,  a  slender,  sinewy 
youth,  always  bound  for  the  woods  when  he  was 
not  needed  on  the  farm.  All  things  seemed  to  help 
him  in  the  roving  life  which  he  loved  best.  The 
Yadkin  region  proved  to  be  all  that  reports  had 
pictured  it.  Bears,  buffaloes,  deer,  and  elk ;  wild- 
cats, foxes,  panthers,  wolves ;  otters,  muskrats,  and 
beavers;  even  wild  turkeys  and,  in  the  'kittle 
winter"  as  the  late  fall  was  called,  wild  geese,  ducks, 
teals,  and  widgeons,  were  abundant.  Was  it  not 
indeed  a  hunter's  paradise? 

Daniel  soon  learned  that  he  could  earn  more 
money  as  a  hunter  than  as  a  farmer  or  blacksmith, 
there  being  a  constant  demand  for  skins  in  Salis- 
bury, a  market-place  some  twenty  miles  away, 
which  carried  on  a  brisk  trade  with  towns  on  the 
coast.     The  buying  and  selling  of  fur  was  so  lucra- 


32  DANIEL  BOONE 

tive  a  business  that  many  engaged  in  it.  The  family 
appreciated  Daniel's  ability,  and  little  by  little  re- 
leased him  from  farm  duties  so  that  he  was  free  to 
hunt. 

But  Daniel  was  not  always  in  the  forest.  A  few 
years  before  the  Boones  had  settled  in  North 
Carolina,  a  Scotch-Irish  family  named  Bryan  had 
journeyed  from  Pennsylvania  in  search  of  a  less 
crowded  district  and  had  settled  at  the  forks  of 
the  Yadkin  River.  They  established  themselves 
according  to  border  fashion  and  were  well  able  to 
welcome  the  Boones  when  they  settled  in  the  val- 
ley. Among  the  children  there  was  a  daughter 
Rebecca,  a  black-eyed,  rosy-cheeked  girl,  with  whom 
Daniel  fell  in  love  almost  at  first  sight.  Happy 
times  they  had  together,  as  border  young  folks 
were  by  no  means  slow  or  stupid.  There  were 
weddings,  housewarmings,  excursions  for  nuts  and 
berries,  picnics,  and  gatherings  on  long  winter 
evenings,  when  stories  were  told  and  songs  were 
sung  around  the  fire.  For  the  boys  there  were 
sports  in  plenty  —  shooting,  running,  wrestling, 
jumping,  throwing  the  tomahawk,  and  feats  of 
strength  and  skill  —  and  for  all  there  was  dancing 
to  a  fiddle.  When  Rebecca  was  but  fifteen,  she 
gave  her  promise  to  Daniel,  and  their  troth  was 
plighted. 


CHAPTER  V 

Campaigning  with  Braddock 

For  three  years  Daniel  lived  a  hunter's  carefree 
life,  and  all  was  well.  Then  suddenly  this  joyful, 
irresponsible  existence  came  to  an  end,  youth  was 
over,  and  the  duties  and  problems  of  manhood 
confronted  him.  A  war  was  imminent  —  one 
phase  of  the  long  war  between  the  French  and  Eng- 
lish for  the  supremacy  of  the  continent ;  and  Daniel, 
hearing  of  the  impending  conflict,  was  anxious  to 
be  up  and  fighting. 

After  the  Enghsh  had  founded  the  thirteen 
colonies  between  the  sea  and  the  Alleghany  and 
Appalachian  mountains,  they  explored  but  Httle 
of  the  land  west  of  the  mountain  barrier.  The 
French,  from  their  stronghold  in  Canada,  made 
their  way  through  the  interior  of  the  country  and 
down  the  Mississippi  Valley,  estabHshing  forts 
at  the  most  important  points  of  their  explorations 
and  claiming  all  the  land  from  the  Alleghanies  to  the 
Rockies.  The  English  finally  reaHzed  that  unless 
they  took  immediate  action  the  heart  of  the  country 
would  be  lost  to  them  forever. 

D  3S 


34  DANIEL  BOONE 

Accordingly,  a  band  of  merchants  and  land 
speculators,  known  as  the  Ohio  Land  Company, 
planned  a  colony  on  the  east  bank  of  the  upper 
Ohio  River,  and  obtained  a  large  grant  from  the 
king,  together  with  the  right  to  traffic  with  the 
Indians  in  the  vicinity.  The  French  became 
aroused,  claiming  this  land  by  right  of  discovery, 
and  at  once  began  to  extend  their  line  of  forts  south- 
ward. Certain  Indian  tribes,  meanwhile,  had 
accepted  the  friendship  of  the  British,  but  other 
western  Indians  declared  that  neither  French  nor 
English  had  any  rights  west  of  the  Alleghany  Moun- 
tains. The  friendship  of  the  Indian  nations  was  of 
the  utmost  importance,  particularly  to  the  French, 
as  the  subjects  of  Great  Britain  in  America  exceeded 
in  number  and  power  those  of  France. 

Governor  Dinwiddle  of  Virginia  decided  to  send  a 
messenger  to  Venango,  a  new  French  fort  in  the 
disputed  region,  to  order  the  French  settlers  there 
to  disperse,  and  to  warn  the  Indians  to  cease  attack- 
ing the  western  frontier.  The  journey  thither  would 
be  a  perilous  one,  through  at  least  three  hundred 
miles  of  unbroken  country  and  among  hostile 
savages.  A  fearless  surveyor  of  twenty-one,  named 
George  Washington,  offered  his  services,  but  with 
misgiving  lest  his  lack  of  a  beard  should  go  against 
him.     The  governor,  however,  did  not  ask  his  age, 


CAMPAIGNING  WITH  BRADDOCK  35 

thanked  him  for  ''a  noble  youth,"  and  commis- 
sioned him  with  the  trust.  With  the  aid  of  an 
interpreter  and  two  servants,  Washington  coura- 
geously made  his  way  to  the  French  commander 
whose  answer  to  the  English  was  nothing  more  nor 
less  than  a  challenge.  The  French  seized  and 
completed  a  fort  on  the  Ohio,  which  the  Ohio  Com- 
pany had  begun,  and  named  it  Fort  Duquesne,  and 
hostilities  increased.  In  1755,  England  sent  over 
General  Edward  Braddock  and  two  regiments  to 
aid  the  colonists  in  driving  out  their  enemy  in  the 
west,  and  a  call  for  volunteers  spread  through  the 
settlements. 

Daniel  Boone  enlisted  early.  Bidding  Rebecca 
and  his  family  a  brave  good-by,  he  joined  the  one 
hundred  backwoodsmen  of  North  Carolina,  under 
command  of  Captain  Edward  B.  Dobbs,  son  of  the 
governor  of  the  province,  and  proceeded  by  forced 
marches  to  join  Braddock's  army  for  service  against 
Fort  Duquesne  at  the  forks  of  the  Ohio,  where 
Pittsburgh  stands  to-day.  Daniel  was  just  turned 
twenty-one  and  was  probably  the  youngest  man 
from  North  Carolina.  The  whole  force  for  the 
expedition  was  gathered  at  Will's  Creek,  in  western 
Maryland,  at  an  old  trading-station,  situated  on  a 
slight  eminence  overlooking  the  Potomac  River  and 
re-named  Fort  Cumberland.     All  about  this  small 


36  D.\NIEL  BOONE 

clearing  lay  the  woods,  boundless  and  unbroken 
save  for  the  tiny  trail  to  the  Ohio  which  Washington 
had  blazed  two  years  before.  The  army  here  en- 
camped must  have  been  a  thrilling  sight  for  Daniel 
whose  life  for  the  most  part  had  been  spent  with 
relatives  or  in  solitude. 

The  two  English  regiments  had  been  recruited 
till  they  numbered  seven  hundred  men  each.  There 
were  also  a  detachment  of  marines ;  four  hundred 
and  fifty  picked  marksmen  from  Virginia,  George 
Washington  in  command;  volunteers  from  New 
York,  Maryland,  and  the  Carolinas,  who.  General 
Braddock  rather  contemptuously  said,  must  be 
drilled  to  make  them  ''as  much  like  soldiers  as 
possible,"  and  a  band  of  fifty  Indians,  who  served 
as  scouts  and  who  seemed  astonishing  objects  to  the 
royal  troops.  ''In  the  day,"  wrote  one  English 
officer,  "the  Indians  are  in  our  camp,  and  in  the 
night  they  go  into  their  own,  where  they  dance 
and  make  a  most  horrible  noise."  Altogether  the 
forces  numbered  about  twenty-two  hundred. 

Imagine  the  scene  as  it  looked  to  Daniel  —  the 
little  fort  set  in  the  wilderness,  its  garrison  of  motley 
men,  the  red  coats  of  the  British  soldiers,  the  blue 
uniforms  of  the  Virginians,  the  Indians  gay  with 
war-paint  and  feathered  scalp-lock,  the  woods 
resounding  with  drum  and  fife,  and  in  the  air  the 


CAMPAIGNING  WITH  BRADDOCK  37 

excitement  of  a  campaign.  Yet  when  he  took  his 
place  in  this  strange  company,  it  proved  a  very 
humble  one.  He  was  separated  from  his  North 
CaroHna  comrades  and  saw  them  precede  him  in  the 
line  of  march.  Because  he  had  some  knowledge  of 
blacksmithing,  he  was  ordered  to  come  up  in  the 
rear  with  the  pack  horses,  wagons,  and  cannon,  as  a 
mechanic.  Probably  Daniel  was  greatly  disap- 
pointed with  so  dull  and  menial  a  place,  and  viewed 
the  long  procession  of  genuine  fighting  men  with  an 
aching  heart.  Yet,  as  is  often  the  way  in  life,  the 
undesired  post  proved  the  best  and  happiest  all  told. 

On  June  10,  1755,  three  hundred  axmen  led  the 
way  from  Fort  Cumberland  northward  into  Pennsyl- 
vania, felling  trees  and  clearing  a  road,  while  the 
troops  marched  on  each  side  through  the  woods, 
certain  squads  doing  flanking  and  scout  duty.  The 
progress  was  slow,  unnecessarily  slow,  according  to 
George  Washington,  who  served  on  the  general's 
staff.  The  entire  distance  between  Fort  Cumber- 
land and  Fort  Duquesne  was  but  eighty  miles, 
yet  not  until  July  9  did  they  come  within  range 
of  the  French  fort. 

This  month  on  the  way  proved  a  busy  one  for 
Daniel.  When  encamped  at  night,  the  line  of 
wagons  compactly  drawn  together  was  half  a  mile 
long,  and  the  horses  numbered  about  six  hundred 


38  DANIEL  BOONE 

besides  those  of  the  artillery.  The  old  Indian  path, 
which  the  road-makers  followed  wherever  possible, 
was  exceedingly  bad  both  for  animals  and  wagons. 
On  high  ground  it  was  often  so  rugged  that  wagons 
were  wrecked  or  rendered  temporarily  useless; 
in  the  ravines  they  sunk  to  the  axles  in  mire.  The 
horses,  for  the  most  part  weak  and  crippled  animals 
foisted  on  Braddock  by  dishonest  contractors, 
became  weakened  with  only  leaves  as  fodder,  there 
being  no  grass  for  them,  and  they  were  often  unable 
to  haul  the  wagons.  For  Daniel,  in  such  a  state 
of  affairs  at  the  end  of  the  line  of  march,  there  was 
constant  work  and  continual  demand  for  all  his 
knowledge  as  a  blacksmith. 

The  hours  which  he  spent  in  mending,  riveting, 
and  shoeing  for  the  train,  and  in  trudging  along  the 
uneven  way  of  the  wilderness,  gave  him  many 
opportunities  to  become  acquainted  w^th  his  asso- 
ciates and  to  hear  their  experiences  in  strange  parts 
of  the  country.  The  tales  of  hunters  and  traders 
were  by  far  the  most  interesting  to  him,  and  of 
all  story-tellers  a  certain  John  Finley  won  his 
greatest  admiration. 

This  young  Scotch-Irishman  had  emigrated  to 
Pennsylvania,  and  as  early  as  1752  had  become  a 
fur-trader,  pushing  westward  to  barter  wath  the 
Indians  in  the  Ohio  Valley.     He  had  penetrated 


CAMPAIGNING  WITH  BRADDOCK  39 

even  farther  west  —  into  that  paradise  which  the 
Indians  called  Kentucky  and  which  he  said  they 
considered  so  precious  a  hunting-ground  that  the 
different  tribes  fought  for  it  jealously.  Beyond 
the  Alleghanies,  according  to  Finley,  lay  a  land  far 
richer  in  soil  and  game  than  the  Yadkin  region  which 
Daniel  knew  and  loved.  Moreover,  Finley  was 
sHghtly  familiar  with  the  ways  thither,  one  from 
North  Carolina  over  an  Indian  trail  to  Cumberland 
Gap,  and  another  down  the  Ohio  by  canoe  to  a 
stream  named  Kentucky. 

To  the  tales  of  such  a  paradise  Daniel  listened 
with  wonder  and  dehght.     The  old  desire  to  pene- 
trate  beyond   civiHzation   became   stronger   than 
ever  as  he  listened  to  Finley,  and  he  determined 
that  as  soon  as  possible  he,  too,  would  know  Ken- 
tucky.    The   comrades  — for   Daniel   Boone   and 
John  Finley  became  fast  friends  at  once  — even 
planned  to  go  together  to  that  delectable  land, 
perhaps  down  the  Ohio  by  canoe,  after  Fort  Du- 
quesne  had  fallen.     Thus  they  talked  and  marched, 
all  unconscious  that  Daniel's  desire  to  reach  Ken- 
tucky,   which   Finley's   chance   words   had   fired, 
would   play   an  important  part   in   the   nation's 
history. 

On  the  July  morning  when  the  army  expected 
to  reach   Fort  Duquesne,   Washington   explained 


40  DANIEL  BOONE 

the  Indian  mode  of  warfare  to  General  Braddock, 
and  begged  to  be  allowed  to  fight  the  red  men  in 
their  own  manner. 

But  Braddock,  arrogant  and  ignorant  of  savage 
ways,  exclaimed,  "High  times!  High  times,  in- 
deed, when  a  young  buckskin  can  teach  a  British 
general  how  to  fight ! " 

So  Washington  withdrew,  and  the  troops  marched 
on  to  fife  and  drum,  in  full  uniform,  bayonets  fixed, 
flags  flying.  No  scouts  ranged  the  woods,  no 
obstacle  was  feared,  and  the  army  proceeded  ''as 
if  in  re\dew  in  St.  James's  Park." 

Consternation  fell  upon  the  httle  French  garrison 
and  the  Indians  encamped  at  Fort  Duquesne,  when 
the  approach  of  Braddock's  spirited  forces  was 
announced. 

But  the  young  French  commandant,  attired  like 
a  savage,  an  Indian  neckplate  about  his  neck  for 
luck,  rushed  to  the  savages,  crying,  "Come!  Up 
and  follow  me!"  and  disappeared  down  the  trail 
toward  the  British. 

Indians,  Canadians,  and  French  regulars,  about 
eight  hundred  in  all,  sped  after  him,  and  between 
two  and  three  o'clock  that  afternoon  they  hid 
themselves  in  the  underbrush  near  the  trail,  as 
Braddock's  men  were  seen  approaching  in  the 
distance. 


CAMPAIGNING  WITH  BRADDOCK  41 

All   unsuspectingly  the   gay    troops   came   on. 
Suddenly  a  yell  arose  in  the  woods,  followed  by  a 
deadly  volley  of  bullets  from  all  sides,  and  for  a  time 
Daniel  Boone's  dreams  of  exploration  vanished. 
The  royal  troops  knew  nothing  about  fighting  an 
enemy  they  could  not  see,  and  huddled  together  in 
little  groups,  not  knowing  what  to  do.     The  Vir- 
ginians, however,  accustomed  to  Indian  warfare,  at 
once  sought  cover,  and  might  have  saved  the  day, 
if   General   Braddock,  in  his  ignorance,  had  not 
ordered  his  troops  to  form  for  a  charge.     Their 
scarlet  coats  were  thus  made  an  open  mark  for  the 
unseen  savages,   and   the  horror  of   the  ensuing 
murder    and    pillage    was    indescribable.     Yet   in 
spite  of  this  and  Washington's  warning  to  fight  in 
open  order,  General  Braddock  continued  for  three 
hours  to  command  his  men  to  arrange  themselves 
according    to    approved    European    tactics.     The 
hidden  enemy  meanwhile  gleefully  continued   to 
pick  off  his  men,  and  General  Braddock  himself 
was  mortally  wounded  early  in  the  action. 

Just  before  he  died  in  the  strange  wilderness, 
he  said  pathetically,  ''Who  would  have  thought 
it?  We  shall  know  better  how  to  deal  with  them 
another  time." 

Washington  buried  him  in  the  new-made  road, 
and  to  save  his  body  from  discovery  and  scalping, 


42  DANIEL  BOONE 

he  ordered  the  retreating  wagons  to  drive  over  the 
grave. 

Late  in  the  afternoon  a  retreat  was  ordered,  and 
the  survivors,  panic-stricken,  fled  back  toward  the 
protection  of  Fort  Cumberland,  leaving  Fort 
Duquesne  still  in  the  possession  of  the  French. 
Among  those  fleeing  for  their  lives  was  Daniel 
Boone,  riding  one  of  the  wagon  horses  whose  traces 
he  had  cut. 

Thus  Daniel's  dreams  of  prowess  and  of  victory 
in  his  first  campaign  came  to  a  sorry  end,  and,  as 
suddenly,  in  the  melee  he  lost  sight  of  John  Finley. 
Probably  he  made  his  way  back  to  the  Yadkin 
Valley  with  much  chagrin  in  his  heart.  Such  a 
homecoming  to  a  devoted  family  and  a  sweetheart 
cast  little  glory  upon  a  young  man  famed  as  a 
fearless  scout  and  hunter.  Yet  the  campaign,  in 
spite  of  defeat,  had  not  been  vain  for  Daniel. 

The  vision  of  Kentucky,  as  he  had  seen  it  through 
the  eyes  of  John  Finley,  lingered  —  a  vision  to  be 
an  inspiration  for  years  to  come. 


CHAPTER  VI 

A  Pioneer  Wedding 

It  is  never  an  easy  matter  to  leave  home  and  go 
out  into  a  strange  world  to  seek  one's  fortune. 
Such  an  exile  as  Daniel  contemplated,  in  a  wilder- 
ness inhabited  only  by  savages  and  wild  animals 
and  reached  by  uncertain  routes,  could  not  be 
undertaken  lightly,  and  it  is  little  wonder  that 
twelve  years  passed  after  the  embarrassing  defeat  at 
Fort  Duquesne  before  Daniel  turned  his  face  toward 
Kentucky.  It  must  also  be  confessed  that  his 
first  enthusiasm  for  exploration  had  been  somewhat 
checked  by  his  mortifying  experiences  with  Brad- 
dock's  army,  and  that  in  consequence  he  worked 
with  unusual  interest  upon  his  father's  farm.  De- 
spite the  Indian  raids  to  which  Southern  borderers 
were  exposed  after  the  repulse  of  the  colonial 
force,  the  settlers  in  the  Yadkin  Valley  continued 
to  pursue  their  pastoral  life  with  customary  dili- 
gence. Besides  these  influences,  inclining  Daniel 
to  remain  at  home,  there  was  his  love  for  Rebecca 
Bryan,  a  power  which  bound  him  fast  and  joyfully 
to  the  Yadkin  Valley. 

43 


44  DANIEL  BOONE 

In  the  spring  of  1756,  following  Daniel's  return 
from  the  army,  they  were  married.  Squire  Boone, 
as  justice  of  the  peace  for  Rowan  County,  per- 
formed the  ceremony.  Tradition  pictures  the 
bride  and  groom  in  glowing  colors. 

*' Behold  that  young  man,"  a  border  historian 
says,  ''exhibiting  such  unusual  firmness  and  energy 
of  character,  five  feet  eight  inches  in  height,  with 
broad  chest  and  shoulders,  his  form  gradually 
tapering  downward  to  his  extremities ;  his  hair 
moderately  black;  blue  eyes  arched  with  yellow- 
ish eyebrows;  his  lips  thin,  with  a  mouth  pecu- 
Uarly  wide ;  a  countenance  fair  and  ruddy,  with 
a  nose  a  little  bordering  on  the  Roman  order. 
Such  was  Daniel  Boone,  now  past  twenty-one, 
presenting  altogether  a  noble,  manly  appearance. 

"Rebecca  Bryan,"  quaintly  continues  the  writer, 
"whose  brow  had  now  been  fanned  by  the  breezes 
of  seventeen  summers,  was,  like  the  Rebecca  of  old, 
'very  fair  to  look  upon,'  with  jet-black  hair  and 
eyes,  complexion  rather  dark,  and  something  over 
the  common  size  of  her  sex;  her  whole  demeanor 
expressive  of  her  childlike  artlessness,  pleasing  in 
her  address,  and  unaffectedly  kind  in  her  deport- 
ment. Never  was  there  a  more  gentle,  affectionate, 
forbearing  creature  than  this  same  youthful  bride 
of  the  Yadkin." 


A  PIONEER  WEDDING  45 

Frontier  weddings  were  prolonged  and  boisterous. 
On  the  nuptial  morning  the  bridegroom's  attendants 
gathered  early  at  his  house  in  order  that  they  might 
reach  the  bride  by  noon,  the  usual  time  for  cele- 
brating the  ceremony,  which,  according  to  custom, 
took  place  before  dinner.  The  men,  dressed  in 
linsey  hunting-shirts,  leather  breeches,  leggings, 
and  moccasins,  all  homemade,  accompanied  the 
young  women  of  the  wedding  party.  They  also 
wore  homemade  clothes,  linsey  petticoats  and  linsey 
or  linen  bed-gowns,  and  coarse  shoes  and  stockings. 
All  rode  on  horseback,  generally  in  double  file, 
although  the  narrowness  of  the  trails  often  made 
this  difficult.  Sometimes  disgruntled  neighbors, 
vexed  perhaps  because  they  were  not  invited  to 
the  marriage,  increased  the  difficulties  of  the  march 
by  draping  grapevines  or  felling  trees  across  the 
way  or  by  startling  the  horses  and  riders  with  shots 
from  ambush.  Border  young  people  were  accus- 
tomed to  obstacles ;  from  infancy  they  were  trained 
to  expect  them  and  to  surmount  them.  The 
wedding  party,  having  quieted  the  horses  and 
calmed  any  of  the  girls  who  chanced  to  become 
excited,  usually  cleared  the  path  and  proceeded 
merrily. 

At  the  close  of  the  ceremony,  solemnity  vanished ; 
the  young  couple  was  congratulated  and  feted; 


46  DANIEL  BOONE 

and  the  frolic,  long  anticipated  in  the  neighborhood, 
was  joined  in  by  all  except  the  bride's  relatives  who 
were  busy  with  the  cooking.  No  wedding  without 
a  dinner  in  those  days !  The  feast  followed  the 
ceremony  as  soon  as  it  could  be  placed  upon  the 
table,  which  often  was  merely  a  large  slab  of  rough 
timber  set  for  the  occasion  with  pewter  plates  and 
spoons,  wooden  trenchers  and  bowls,  and  knives 
and  forks  of  bone.  It  was  a  substantial  meal  — 
beef,  pork,  fowl,  and  sometimes  bear  meat  and 
venison,  roasted  and  boiled,  with  potatoes,  cabbage, 
and  other  vegetables.  Appetites  were  keen  and 
spirits  merry,  and  all  ate  heartily  —  all,  perhaps,  save 
the  bride  and  groom  who  probably  felt  the  serious- 
ness of  the  occasion  more  deeply  than  their  hilarious 
guests. 

Soon  after  the  substantial  dinner,  a  musician 
struck  up,  couples  laughingly  took  their  places  on 
the  floor,  the  elders  applauded,  and  dancing  began. 
It  was  not  the  stately  dancing  of  the  colonial  period 
as  often  pictured,  but  a  far  more  rollicking  amuse- 
ment. The  figures  were  three-  and  four-handed 
reels  or  square  sets,  and  jigs.  Generally  the  dance 
began  with  a  ''square  four"  which  was  followed  by 
a  jig  or  "jigging  it  off."  Two  of  the  four  dancers 
of  the  square  set  "singled  out"  for  a  jig,  and  the 
remaining  pair  followed  them.     When  either  couple 


A  PIONEER  WEDDING  47 

became  tired,  their  places  were  taken  by  others,  the 
dance  thus  sweeping  on  and  on  without  interrup- 
tion, until  the  fiddler  longed  to  rest.  After  this 
vigorous  fashion  the  dancing  continued  until  the 
following  day. 

Daniel  and  Rebecca  began  their  married  life  in 
a  rough  log  cabin  on  Squire  Boone's  farm,  but  soon 
they  acquired  level  land  of  their  own  lying  on 
Sugar  Tree,  a  tributary  of  Dutchman's  Creek,  in 
the  Bryan  settlement  and  only  a  few  miles  north 
of  the  elder  Boone's.  There  they  built  a  cabin 
which  friends  and  relatives  probably  helped  to 
"  raise,"  according  to  the  usual  manner  of  settling 
a  young  couple  among  pioneers. 

Soon  after  the  wedding  day,  a  party  of  choppers 
felled  trees  and  cut  them  into  logs  of  proper  lengths 
for  the  sides  and  ends  of  the  building.  Other 
woodsmen  searched  for  straight-grained  trees  from 
three  to  four  feet  in  diameter  which  could  be  split 
for  clapboards  for  the  roof.  Smaller  trees  were 
hewn  and  their  faces  smoothed  for  puncheons  for 
the  floor.  As  a  rule  this  lumber  was  prepared  on 
the  first  day,  and  sometimes  by  that  evening  the 
foundation  was  laid .  On  the  next  day  the  ' '  raising ' ' 
took  place.  The  neighbors  gathered  early  in  the 
morning  and  at  once  chose  four  ''corner  men" 
whose  business  it  was  to  notch  and  place  the  logs. 


48  DANIEL  BOONE 

The  others  handed  them  the  timbers.  Boards 
and  puncheons  were  put  in  place  for  floor  and  roof, 
and  generally  by  sunset  a  cabin  stood  in  the  clear- 
ing. A  third  day  made  it  habitable.  Masons 
daubed  the  chimney  cracks  with  mortar,  and  car- 
penters made  a  door  and  a  window,  a  table  and 
stools,  shelves  for  the  dishes,  wooden  beds  and 
wooden  pegs.  Then,  before  the  young  couple  was 
allowed  to  move  in,  a  housewarming  was  held  in  the 
new  home ;  this  closed  with  an  all-night  dance  at- 
tended by  the  relatives  of  the  bride  and  groom  and 
their  neighbors. 

Daniel  and  Rebecca  Boone  began  their  married 
life  in  this  wild  and  isolated  region  with  only  the 
barest  necessities.  Yet  there  was  comfort  in  having 
their  own  cabin,  however  primitive  it  might  appear, 
with  its  unhewn  timbers  chinked  closely  with  moss 
and  clay  to  keep  out  the  frost,  and  suggesting  the 
woodland  even  within  the  little  house.  There  was 
pleasure  in  kindling  their  own  fire  on  their  own 
hearth,  and  in  arranging  their  few  possessions  — 
the  plain  furniture,  the  dishes,  the  drinking  mugs  of 
gourds  and  hard-shelled  squashes,  the  candle-sticks, 
the  skins,  Daniel's  hunting  trophies,  his  fowling- 
pieces  and  scalping-knives,  the  clothing  and  bedding, 
the  scant  sewing  materials,  the  farming  implements, 
the  flitches  of  bacon,  venison,  and  bear's  meat. 


A  PIONEER  WEDDING  49 

Rebecca  entered  upon  her  housekeeping  duties 
with  diHgence  and  thrift,  and  Daniel  sowed  and 
reaped,  raised  cattle  and  swine,  hunted,  served  as 
smith  and  weaver,  and  occasionally  drove  to  the 
market  towns  of  the  coast  as  master  driver  of  one  of 
the  caravans  which  frequently  journeyed  thither  to 
exchange  furs  for  such  indispensable  articles  as  salt, 
iron,  steel,  castings,  cloth,  and  manufactured  goods. 

In  these  simple,  industrious  ways,  and  with  few 
wants,  Daniel  and  Rebecca  made  a  meager  living 
during  their  early  married  years.  Save  for  the 
birth  of  two  sons,  whom  they  named  James  and 
Israel,  life  passed  without  especial  events,  until 
the  spring  of  1759,  when  the  Cherokee  Indians 
raided  the  Yadkin  and  Catawba  valleys,  and  made 
the  borderers  tremble  for  their  lives.  The  long- 
continued,  friendly  spirit  of  these  savages  for  the 
colonists  had  come  to  an  end. 

General  James  Oglethorpe  had  won  the  good  will 
of  the  Cherokees  in  1733  by  purchasing  from  them  a 
tract  of  land  in  Georgia  to  which  he  already  had  a 
royal  title,  but  which  formed  part  of  the  Cherokee 
territory,  then  extending  through  the  western 
Carolinas,  Georgia,  and  northern  Alabama.  The 
Indians  believed  that  their  forefathers  had  sprung 
from  this  ground  or  descended  from  the  clouds 
upon  the  hills,  and  held  sacred  the  places  where 


50  DANIEL  BOONE 

their  venerable  bones  were  buried.  To  show  their 
appreciation,  they  gave  General  Oglethorpe  a  buffalo 
skin  upon  the  inner  side  of  which  was  painted  the 
head  and  feathers  of  an  eagle.  ''The  feathers  are 
soft,"  they  said,  ''signifying  love ;  the  skin  is  warm 
and  is  the  emblem  of  protection;  therefore  love 
and  protect  our  Httle  famiHes."  They  continued 
more  or  less  loyal  to  the  British  for  twenty  years, 
considering  the  French  "light  as  a  feather,  fickle 
as  the  wind,  and  deceitful  as  serpents." 

In  1755,  the  year  of  Daniel  Boone's  first  cam- 
paign, Governor  Glen  of  South  Carolina  asked  per- 
mission to  build  two  small  forts  in  the  Cherokee 
country  for  the  purpose  of  counteracting  French 
influence  in  the  region  and  of  holding  fast  to 
Cherokee    good    will    and    trade. 

The  governor  assured  the  Indians  that  the  forts 
would  be  a  retreat  for  them  from  their  enemies,  and 
in  answer  their  chief  said,  "We  freely  surrender  a 
part  of  our  lands  to  the  great  king." 

A  large  tract  was  deeded  to  the  English,  and  two 
forts  erected,  one  on  the  Savannah  River  and 
another  on  the  Tennessee  River,  and  named  Fort 
Prince  George  and  Fort  Loudon.  Later  a  third 
fort  was  built  a  short  distance  from  the  South 
Fork  of  the  Yadkin  and  called  Fort  Dobbs.  These 
three  places  of  refuge  guarded  the  approach  from 


A  PIONEER  WEDDING  SI 

the  southwest  where  the  French  and  their  Indian 
alHes  were  especially  active. 

These  wooden  forts  differed  greatly  from  the 
forts  of  to-day.  They  consisted  of  cabins,  block- 
houses, and  stockades,  the  cabins  commonly  forming 
one  side  of  the  fort,  and  all  the  buildings  arranged 
in  the  form  of  a  square  or  oblong.  Sometimes 
bastions  were  built  at  the  angles  of  the  forts  instead 
of  blockhouses.  The  timbers  were  sharpened  at 
the  top,  the  walls  were  furnished  with  loopholes  at 
proper  heights  and  distances,  and  the  outside  made 
bullet-proof.  The  whole  inclosure  was  built  with- 
out nails  or  iron  as  these  were  not  to  be  had.  In 
the  side  nearest  a  spring  was  a  strong  gate,  made  of 
thick  slabs,  which  could  be  heavily  barred.  Such 
forts  could  not  have  withstood  artillery  fire,  but 
they  served  their  purpose  well  in  Indian  warfare, 
the  savages  having  no  heavy  guns. 

With  the  erection  of  the  three  forts  the  Cherokees 
were  driven  still  farther  westward.  For  some 
years  they  had  been  feeling  the  pressure  of  the 
growing  colonies.  They  resented  the  presence  of 
traders  and  hunters  in  their  territory,  but  they  had 
become  so  dependent  upon  the  supplies  of  civiliza- 
tion —  paint,  ammunition,  guns,  knives,  tools,  and 
gewgaws  —  that  they  allowed  the  white  men  to 
come  and  go  unmolested. 


52  DANIEL  BOONE 

Farmers  also  annoyed  them.  Many  raised  live 
stock  —  cattle  and  sheep,  hogs  and  horses  —  and 
turned  them  loose  to  roam  and  graze  on  the  foot- 
hills of  the  Alleghanies.  As  the  herds  and  crops 
increased  with  the  development  of  the  valleys,  new 
pastures  and  land  were  needed,  and  little  by  little 
the  settlers  encroached  upon  the  Indian  hunting- 
grounds,  driving  cattle  sometimes  sixty  or  more 
miles  from  the  settlement  to  fresher  fields.  The 
Cherokees  and  Catawbas  were  aware  of  this  intru- 
sion, but  they  made  no  open  protests  until  the  year 
of  Daniel's  wedding.  After  the  defeat  of  Fort 
Duquesne,  in  which  they  took  part,  mutual  injuries 
brought  about  a  state  of  hostihty  between  the  North 
Carolina  settlers  and  their  Cherokee  neighbors. 

As  the  Cherokee  warriors  were  passing  through 
the  extreme  frontier  settlements  of  Virginia  on 
their  return  march  from  Braddock's  campaign,  they 
found  the  settlers'  horses  running  wild  in  the  woods, 
and  these  they  appropriated  to  replace  those  they 
had  lost  on  the  expedition,  not  supposing  them  to 
belong  to  any  individual  in  the  province.  It  was 
customary  among  Indians  and  white  men  to  claim 
wild  horses.  When  the  Cherokees  appropriated  the 
horses  of  the  settlers,  some  Virginians,  without 
waiting  for  legal  redress,  attacked  and  killed  twelve 
or  more  of  the  warriors  and  took  others  prisoners. 


A  PIONEER  WEDDING  53 

As  soon  as  the  Cherokees  reached  their  villages 
they  told  of  this  ungrateful  return  for  their  support, 
and  the  young  braves  vowed  vengeance,  which 
the  French  emissaries  were  glad  to  foster. 

With  bodies  and  faces  grotesquely  painted,  and 
with  feathers  quivering  in  their  scalp  locks,  they 
descended  upon  the  settlements  in  the  Carolinas 
which  had  hitherto  been  prospering,  and  forced 
their  way  ruthlessly  along  the  river  valleys,  creating 
havoc  and  terror,  and  attacking  so  suddenly  that 
the  settlers  were  unable  to  organize  to  withstand 
the  assault.  The  border  people  knew  all  too  well  the 
horrors  of  Indian  warfare,  and  the  tortures  of  Indian 
captivity.  Messengers  were  ever  ready  to  warn 
settlers  of  the  approach  of  enemies  on  the  warpath 
and  to  order  them  into  the  forts. 

The  dwellers  in  the  Yadkin  and  Catawba  valleys 
abandoned  their  farms  and  fled  precipitately  either 
to  Fort  Dobbs,  to  a  smaller  neighborhood  inclosure, 
or  to  some  settlement  on  the  coast.  Several  of  the 
Boone  and  Bryan  families  took  refuge  in  Virginia 
and  Maryland,  Squire  Boone  and  his  wife  hasten- 
ing to  Georgetown,  now  in  the  District  of  Columbia. 
Daniel  Boone  with  his  family  and  a  few  possessions 
drove  in  a  two-horse  wagon  to  Culpeper  County, 
eastern  Virginia,  and  there  settled.  Womanhke, 
Rebecca  probably  thought  sadly  of  the  deserted 


54 


DANIEL  BOONE 


home  on  the  bank  of  Sugar  Tree,  the  home  which 
she  and  Daniel  had  built  and  where  her  children  had 
been  born,  but,  although  she  was  only  twenty,  she 
bore  the  flight  and  the  new  Hfe  in  a  manner  worthy 
of  her  border  heritage.  Daniel  again  found  em- 
ployment as  a  wagoner.  The  settlers  in  eastern 
Virginia  raised  tobacco,  and  this  bulky  commodity 
Daniel  was  hired  to  haul  to  Fredericksburg,  the 
nearest  market  town. 

Hauling  tobacco,  however,  was  monotonous 
work  for  a  pioneer  hunter,  and  as  he  guided  the 
creaking  wagon  along  uneven  roads,  his  thoughts 
were  with  his  friends  imprisoned  in  Fort  Dobbs. 
Was  it  not  his  duty  to  fight  with  them  the  battles 
they  were  waging  against  a  common  foe  ? 

This  thought  grew  day  by  day,  and  finally  he 
made  up  his  mind.  As  soon  as  he  could  provide 
for  the  comfort  of  his  young  wife  and  infant  sons, 
Daniel  Boone  hurried  back  to  North  Carolina  and 
manfully  took  up  his  burden  in  the  war. 


CHAPTER  VII 

Fighting  the  Cherokees 

Boone  found  that  during  his  absence  Fort  Dobbs 
had  been  besieged  desperately  by  the  Cherokees, 
but  that  its  Httle  garrison  under  Colonel  Hugh 
Waddell,  in  which  several  Boones  and  Bryans  had 
served,  had  successfully  repulsed  them.  In  fact, 
commissioners,  appointed  to  consider  the  matter 
of  fortifications  and  to  report  to  the  legislature  of 
South  CaroHna,  found  ''officers  and  soldiers  appear- 
ing well  and  in  good  spirits"  at  Fort  Dobbs  at 
Christmas  in  1756.  E\ddently  Daniel's  support 
was  not  needed  there. 

Farther  south  matters  were  more  serious.  The 
Cherokees  were  arming  anew,  determined  to  avenge 
to  the  death  the  blood  of  their  kindred.  Even 
Atta-KuUa-Kulla,  half-king  of  the  nation,  who  had 
advocated  peace  to  the  last,  appeared  in  war  gear 
and  with  one  side  of  his  face  painted  red,  the  other 
black,  and  great  white  circles  sketched  around  his 
eyes.  In  the  vicinity  of  Fort  Prince  George  on  the 
Savannah  River  the  Indians  were  particularly 
incensed,  and  Colonel  Montgomery  of  the  British 

55 


56  DANIEL  BOONE 

aimy  was  instructed  to  organize  an  expedition 
to  proceed  against  them  and  to  the  rehef  of  the 
garrison,  suffering  more  for  want  of  fuel,  which 
they  were  unable  to  leave  the  fort  to  procure, 
than  for  want  of  provisions. 

In  addition  to  Montgomery's  twelve  hundred 
regular  troops  —  among  whom  were  six  hundred 
picturesque  Highlanders  in  kilted  uniform  —  he 
secured  several  hundred  backwoodsmen  of  Carolina 
with  some  Indian  allies,  under  the  command  of 
Colonel  Waddell.  Dam'el  enlisted  at  once  with 
Waddell  to  whom  his  natural  sagacity  and  knowl- 
edge of  savages  proved  valuable.  They  marched 
with  all  haste  to  Fort  Prince  George,  relieving  it 
at  once.  Many  Cherokee  villages  near  the  Ten- 
nessee and  Keowee  rivers  were  laid  waste,  and 
those  Indians  whom  they  did  not  kill  or  capture 
were  reduced  to  starvation,  as  the  white  men 
wrought  complete  havoc,  destroying  not  only  the 
settlements  but  the  crops  and  com  as  well.  Dead 
and  dying  Indians  and  blazing  wigwams  marked 
the  low^er  country.  Oconostota,  known  as  ''Great 
Warrior,"  said  that  Montgomery's  ''feet  were 
winged  with  fire  and  destruction." 

Colonel  Washington  felt  uncertain  of  the  British 
commander's  ultimate  success. 

"What  may  be  Montgomery's  fate  in  the  Chero- 


FIGHTING  THE   CHEROKEES  57 

kee  country,"  he  wrote  Richard  Washington,  "I 
cannot  readily  determine.  It  seems  he  has  made 
a  prosperous  beginning,  having  penetrated  into  the 
heart  of  the  country,  and  he  is  now  advancing  his 
troops  in  high  spirits  to  the  relief  of  Fort  Loudon. 
But  let  him  be  wary.  He  has  a  crafty,  subtle 
enemy  to  deal  with,  that  may  give  him  the  most 
trouble  when  he  least  expects  it." 

Colonel  Montgomery,  however,  elated  with  his 
progress,  and  unfamiliar  with  Indian  valor,  like 
most  British  ofl&cers,  expected  to  be  able  to  wipe 
out  as  easily  the  Cherokee  villages  on  the  Little 
Tennessee. 

Across  the  mountains  he  hastened  his  two 
thousand  soldiers  and  train  of  cattle  and  other 
provisions  necessary  for  so  wild  a  journey,  aiming 
to  complete  his  mission  with  dispatch.  But  the 
Cherokees  lay  in  hiding,  longing  to  wreak  their 
vengeance  at  an  advantageous  moment.  Their 
spies  kept  a  stealthy  watch,  and  when  Mont- 
gomery's forces  came,  one  June  morning,  to  a  rough 
road  —  on  one  side  the  land  dropping  precipitately 
to  a  stream  below,  and  on  the  other  a  sheer  cKff 
rising  —  the  signal  was  given,  and  six  hundred 
warriors,  bloodthirsty  and  exultant,  opened  fire 
upon  the  unsuspecting  troops.  For  a  while  the 
colonial  forces  were  too  dazed  to  act.     The  trees 


58  DANIEL  BOONE 

and  underbrush  seemed  aflame,  and  the  hills  re- 
sounded awfully  to  the  savage  war  cries.  Then  the 
colonel,  suffering  from  the  experiences  in  which 
Braddock  had  lost  his  life,  ralHed  his  men  and 
fought  his  way  valiantly  to  level  ground.  For- 
tunately, the  Cherokees  were  poor  marksmen, 
and  Waddell's  rearguard  of  backwoodsmen,  of 
whom  Daniel  was  doubtless  one,  were  trained 
Indian  fighters.  On  this  account  the  disaster  was 
less  terrible  than  Braddock's. 

Montgomery  was  forced  to  beat  a  retreat  at 
great  sacrifice.  Throwing  away  many  stores  and 
bags  of  flour  in  order  that  the  horses  might  carry 
back  his  wounded,  he  saved  as  many  men  as  he 
could.  The  dead  he  weighted  heavily  and  sunk 
in  the  streams  that  their  bodies  might  not  be 
recovered  and  scalped.  Under  nettling  fire  but 
with  regularity,  he  made  his  way  to  Fort  Prince 
George  and  thence,  disgusted  with  Indian  warfare 
and  deaf  to  all  entreaties,  he  and  some  of  his  regu- 
lars retired  by  sea  to  New  York.  Thus  Daniel 
Boone  experienced  defeat  a  second  time. 

Now  that  the  British  commander  had  been  driven 
from  their  country,  the  Cherokees  determined  that 
they  would  take  possession  of  Fort  Loudon,  claim- 
ing that  they  had  paid  for  it  with  their  blood  shed 
in  the  English  service.     This  outpost  stood  in  the 


FIGHTING  THE  CHEROKEES  59 

very  heart  of  their  territory,  one  hundred  and  fifty 
miles  from  the  nearest  white  settlement.  The 
memory  of  their  sacked  villages,  and  their  kindred 
who  had  perished  in  the  flames,  urged  them  on. 
They  cut  off  the  little  fort  from  communication 
and  would  have  reduced  the  garrison  to  starva- 
tion if  certain  kindly  squaws  had  not  smuggled 
the  soldiers  lean  stores. 

At  length,  Captain  Stuart  left  the  fort  in  full 
uniform,  bearing  a  white  flag  in  his  hand,  and 
treated  with  Chief  Oconostota  in  Chote,  "the 
beloved  town,  city  of  refuge,"  of  the  Cherokee 
nation.  There  the  Indians  agreed  that  the  garrison 
of  Fort  Loudon  should  march  out  unmolested  to 
Virginia  or  Fort  Prince  George  with  their  arms  and 
drums,  each  soldier  having  as  much  pow^der  and 
ball  as  necessary  for  the  march  and  all  the  baggage 
they  might  choose  to  carry.  Captain  Smith  prom- 
ised that  the  fort,  the  great  guns,  the  powder,  the 
bullets,  and  spare  arms  should  be  delivered  to  the 
Indians,  without  fraud  or  delay,  on  the  day  ap- 
pointed for  the  exodus.  Great  was  the  rejoicing 
when  news  of  the  terms  reached  the  fort.  The 
soldiers  marched  away,  flags  flying  and  uniforms 
making  a  gay  showing  in  spite  of  defeat,  the  women, 
children,  and  sick  soldiers  riding  behind  on  Indian 
ponies.     Through  the  canebrakes  and  along   the 


6o  DANIEL  BOONE 

trail  in  the  dark  woods  the  little  garrison  took  its 
way,  singing,  and  to  the  beat  of  drums.  But,  alas ! 
as  the  next  dawn  was  tingeing  the  sky,  the  hideous 
din  of  war  whoops  broke  the  morning  stillness, 
and  seven  hundred  Cherokees,  painted  horribly, 
fell  upon  the  band  and  without  mercy  killed  or 
tortured  them. 

Like  many  calamities,  this  treacherous  massacre 
bore  good  fruit.  It  moved  the  colonial  author- 
ities to  understand  that  unless  they  took  immedi- 
ate steps  to  subdue  the  Indians,  the  Indians  would 
wipe  out  the  outlying  settlements  of  the  colonies. 
Accordingly,  during  the  winter  of  1 76 1 ,  the  governors 
of  Virginia,  North  Carolina,  and  South  Carolina 
agreed  to  unite  their  forces  for  a  decisive  invasion 
of  the  Cherokee  country.  The  assembly  of  South 
Carolina  voted  a  thousand  men  and  £25  for  every 
Indian  scalp ;  North  Carolina  voted  a  similar 
provision  and  authorized  the  holding  of  Indian 
captives  as  slaves. 

By  June  two  armies  were  marching  away  toward 
the  west.  One,  composed  chiefly  of  Scottish  High- 
landers in  plaids  and  kilts  under  a  Highland  colonel, 
James  Grant,  overcame  the  Indians  near  the  place 
where  Montgomery  had  been  attacked  the  year 
before ;  later  they  ravaged  villages  and  crops,  and 
drove  several  thousand  Indian  men  and  women  to 


FIGHTING  THE   CHEROKEES  6i 

starve  in  the  hills.  The  work  of  devastation  was 
successful ;  the  Indians  themselves  could  not  have 
been  more  thorough. 

With  the  second  army,  composed  of  backwoods- 
men from  Virginia  and  North  Carolina,  went  Daniel 
Boone  as  fearless  as  ever  and  with  the  experience 
of  two  campaigns,  two  rather  ill-fated  campaigns 
to  be  sure,  to  his  credit.  But  Daniel  saw  little 
fighting.  The  five  hundred  backwoodsmen  of 
his  North  Carolina  regiment,  serving  again  under 
Waddell,  were  delayed  along  the  way  by  their 
commander,  Colonel  William  Byrd,  in  road-making. 
Later,  Colonel  Stephen  succeeded  Byrd,  and  the 
force  pushed  on  quickly  to  Long  Island  in  the  Hol- 
ston  River,  where  they  overcame  four  hundred 
Cherokees,  a  defeat  which  gave  the  final  blow 
to  Cherokee  supremacy.  The  savages,  at  last 
humbled,  begged  for  peace.  The  North  Carolina 
troops  went  home  to  enjoy  the  praise  which  they 
had  justly  won,  and,  although  few  details  of 
Boone's  campaigns  remain,  we  are  glad  to  believe 
that  he  participated  in  this  victory  and  shared  in 
all  its  honors. 

Atta-Kulla-Kulla  and  other  chieftains  met  the 
lieutenant  governor  of  South  Carolina  in  council 
at  Ashley  Ferry  in  1761,  where  the  pipe  of  peace 
was  lighted  and  smoked  in  great  silence  and  solem- 


62  DANIEL  BOONE 

nity.  Then  Atta-Kulla-Kulla  rose  and  addressed 
the  council,  presenting  strings  of  wampum  from  the 
different  towns. 

"As  to  what  has  happened,"  he  said,  "I  believe 
it  has  been  ordered  by  our  Father  above.  We  are 
of  a  different  color  from  the  white  people.  They 
are  superior  to  us.  But  one  God  is  Father  of  all, 
and  we  hope  what  is  past  will  be  forgotten.  God 
Almighty  made  all  people.  .  There  is  not  a  day  but 
some  are  coming  into,  and  others  going  out  of,  the 
world.  The  great  king  told  me  the  path  should 
never  be  crooked,  but  open  for  every  one  to  pass 
and  repass.  As  we  all  live  in  one  land,  I  hope  we 
shall  all  live  as  one  people." 

Peace  was  soon  offfcially  declared,  and  the  friend- 
ship, which  the  Cherokees  had  formerly  promised, 
was  renewed,  all  hoping  that  it  would  endure  as 
long  as  "the  rivers  shall  run,  the  mountains  last, 
or  the  sun  shine." 

With  the  submission  of  the  Cherokees,  the 
dreaded  power  of  France  in  the  New  World  also 
waned,  and  the  end  of  the  long  French  and  Indian 
wars,  of  which  these  Southern  conflicts  had  been  a 
part,  soon  followed,  leaving  the  country  to  the 
English. 

The  struggle  between  red  men  and  settlers  had 
been  long  and  inevitable.     The  Indians  believed 


FIGHTING  THE  CHEROKEES  63 

that  the  Great  Spirit  had  given  them  their  ancestral 
lands  and  that  they  had  every  right  to  hold  them 
against  all  invaders.  To  them  these  lands  repre- 
sented all  that  was  dear  —  their  homes,  their 
hunting-grounds,  the  graves  of  their  fathers. 

''It  was  we,"  said  the  Delawares,  Mohicans,  and 
their  kindred  tribes,  "who  so  kindly  received  the 
Europeans  on  their  first  arrival  into  our  own  country. 
We  took  them  by  the  hand  and  bade  them  welcome 
to  sit  down  by  our  side,  and  live  with  us  as  brothers ; 
but  how  did  they  requite  our  kindness?  They  at 
first  asked  only  for  a  little  land,  on  which  to  raise 
bread  for  their  families ;  and  pasture  for  their 
cattle,  which  we  freely  gave  them.  They  saw  the 
grass  in  the  woods,  which  the  Great  Spirit  had  given 
us  for  our  subsistence,  and  they  wanted  it,  too. 
They  penetrated  into  the  woods  in  quest  of  game ; 
they  discovered  spots  of  land  they  also  wanted, 
and  because  we  were  loath  to  part  with  it,  as  we 
saw  they  had  already  more  than  they  had  need  of, 
they  took  it  from  us  by  force,  and  drove  us  to  a 
great  distance  from  our  homes." 

To  Daniel  Boone  and  to  all  borderers,  the  Indians 
seemed  mere  savages,  treacherous,  bloodthirsty, 
barbaric  in  customs,  and  without  ambition  to 
develop  either  their  lands  or  their  lives.  It  went 
without  saying  that  the  white  men  were  superior. 


64  DANIEL  BOONE 

They  felled  forests,  removed  rocks  and  tree-trunks, 
tilled  fields,  bridged  rivers,  and  made  roadways. 
They  believed  in  schools  and  churches,  in  law  and 
order.  The  very  territory,  which  the  Indians  had 
held  for  centuries  without  cultivation,  meant 
opportunity  and  prosperity  to  Boone  and  his 
pioneer  comrades.  They  coveted  these  lands  — 
and  they  took  them.  Believing  that  the  Indians 
must  be  fought  with  their  own  weapons,  they 
battled  with  the  red  men,  often  according  to  the 
savages'  own  wild  standards.  Neither  Indians 
nor  settlers  can  be  blamed ;  each  was  fighting  for 
a  cause.  The  whole  history  of  the  frontier  is  a 
blood-stained  story. 


CHAPTER  VIII 

Exploring  New  Country 

Peace  again  in  the  valleys  and  among  the  foot- 
hills of  Virginia  and  the  Carolinas !  What  a  sigh 
of  rehef  must  have  passed  over  the  country  when 
the  Indians  had  smoked  their  pipe  of  friendship  at 
Ashley  Ferry  in  1761  !  Now  were  the  settlers  free 
to  return  to  their  deserted  cabins  —  if  perchance 
they  were  still  standing  after  the  ravages  of  war  — 
and  to  gather  up  again  the  threads  of  Hfe  which 
had  snapped  so  suddenly  two  years  before.  By 
vehicle,  and  on  foot  and  horseback,  famiHes  made 
their  way  along  famihar  roads.  Neighbors,  who 
had  lost  sight  of  one  another  in  the  eastward  flight, 
fell  upon  each  other  with  rejoicing,  and  told  sorry 
tales  of  want  and  suffering.  Homes  were  again 
estabhshed,  some  sad  for  want  of  members  whose 
spirits  the  Indians  had  ''sent  away  over  the  great 
mountain  pass."  Fires  were  once  more  lighted  on 
abandoned  hearths ;  springs  and  wells,  overgrown 
with  brush  from  long  disuse,  were  cleared,  and  land 
turned  to  ripen  in  the  sun. 

As  soon  as  peace  was  assured,  Daniel  returned 
P  6s 


66  DANIEL  BOONE 

to  Virginia,  stowed  his  little  family  comfortably 
again  in  the  two-horse  wagon,  and  jogged  back  to 
the  Yadkin  Valley.  Once  more  Rebecca  was 
estabhshed  in  the  region  she  loved,  and  Daniel 
went  about  his  farm  work  and  his  hunting.  Squire 
and  Sarah  Boone,  then  well  along  in  years,  rode  on 
horseback  from  Maryland,  doubtless  over  much 
the  same  route  by  which  they  had  first  journeyed 
from  Pennsylvania.  Many  experiences  were  re- 
counted in  which  Daniel  was  the  center  of  interest. 
This  happy  reunion  was  to  be  saddened  three 
years  later  by  the  death  of  Squire  Boone,  a  brave 
man  greatly  respected  in  the  border  country. 

Yet  however  pleasant  home  may  have  appeared 
to  the  Boones,  the  spirit  of  the  old  pioneer  life  was 
changed.  Those  who  had  known  the  stirring 
dangers  and  uncertainties  of  war  were  restless  in 
the  settlements.  With  his  love  for  the  wilderness, 
Boone  in  particular  found  the  humdrum  life  of  a 
farmer  little  to  his  liking.  Idleness  of  life  within 
the  forts  had  driven  certain  settlers  to  lawlessness. 
Such  would  creep  out  of  the  great,  barred  gate  in 
secret  to  steal  household  possessions  or  live  stock 
left  on  the  abandoned  farms  when  the  owners  fled 
before  the  Indians.  When  these  evil-doers  returned 
to  the  open  country,  they  continued  the  bad  habits 
formed  during  the  wars,  and  horse-stealing  became 


EXPLORING  NEW  COUNTRY  67 

prevalent.  Unfortunately,  all  frontier  people  were 
not  of  strong  moral  character.  Several  bands  of 
thieves  established  themselves  in  the  hills  over- 
hanging the  Yadkin  Valley,  and,  safe  for  a  time 
within  a  log  fort  which  they  built,  they  boldly  pil- 
laged the  settlements,  stealing  whatever  pleased 
them,  even  carrying  away  a  young  girl.  This  last 
act  so  aroused  the  borderers  that,  banding  together 
under  Daniel  Boone,  they  attacked  and  captured 
the  Uttle  fortress  and  carried  off  the  culprits  to 
SaHsbury  jail. 

Fighting  the  Cherokees  in  the  western  campaigns 
had  shown  the  backwoodsmen  of  the  South  that  the 
rich  land,  lying  beyond  their  settlements,  was  far 
more  accessible  than  they  thought,  and  this  stimu- 
lated  their  natural   desire   to   hunt  and  explore. 
Boone,  ever  eager  to  be  on  the  trail,  and  now  doubly 
awakened  to  the  charm  of  adventure,  gladly  as- 
sumed the  leadership   of   exploring    and    hunting 
parties,  whenever  he  did  not  prefer  to  hunt  in  soH- 
tude.     As  population  increased,  the  game  sought 
new  haunts,  and  Daniel  followed  after,  tramping 
the  hills  and  valleys  for  miles  around  until  he  knew 
every  nook   and   cranny,  and   even   had   become 
familiar  with  the  view  from  peaks  five  and  six 
thousand  feet  high. 

Many  a  time  on  an  autumn  morning,  after  the 


68  DANIEL  BOONE 

leaves  were  well  bedded,  and  rain  or  light  snow 
had  fallen,  Boone  stepped  out  early  to  look  at  the 
weather  and  to  sniff  the  wind.  Should  he  and  his 
neighbors  set  off  that  day  for  the  woods?  Deer 
were  hunted  during  the  fall  and  early  winter,  but 
the  season  for  bears  and  fur-skinned  animals  lasted 
through  the  winter  and  well  into  the  spring.  There 
is  an  old  saying  that  fur  is  good  during  every  month 
having  the  letter  R  in  its  name. 

In  addition  to  their  arms,  hunters  took  with  them 
if  possible  flour,  salt,  Indian  meal,  and  blankets. 
In  a  spot  sheltered  from  the  north  and  west  winds, 
they  built  a  ''half -faced"  cabin.  This  was  a  rude 
shelter  having  the  back  made  of  logs,  the  roofing 
of  skins,  blankets,  strips  of  wood  or  bark,  and  the 
front  open.  Before  this  opening  the  men  built 
their  camp  fire,  cooked  their  meals,  and  told  their 
evening  stories.  When  bedtime  came,  they  crept 
into  the  shelter  to  beds  of  dry  leaves  or  evergreen 
boughs,  and  lay  down  with  their  feet  toward  the 
fire.  With  this  warmth  they  hoped  to  prevent  or 
cure  rheumatism  to  which  wet  moccasins  made 
them  subject. 

Boone's  skill  and  calculation  in  hunting  rarely 
failed.  A  glance  at  the  weather,  and  he  reckoned 
where  he  should  find  his  game  during  that  day.  He 
knew  that  deer  seek  sheltered  places  under  the  lee 


EXPLORING  NEW  COUNTRY  69 

of  the  hills  in  stormy  weather,  but  that  during 
rainy  days  with  slight  wind  they  keep  in  the  open 
woods  on  the  highest  ground.  To  be  sure  that  his 
game  might  not  scent  him,  he  ascertained  the 
direction  of  the  wind  —  perhaps  by  holding  a 
moistened  finger  above  his  head  —  and  then  kept 
to  the  leeward  of  the  animal  he  was  trying  to  outwit. 
He  seldom  fired  at  random,  but  took  his  aim  with 
deliberation  and  accuracy,  as  powder  and  lead  were 
scarce  and  costly  in  the  secluded  settlements. 

When  his  little  son  James  was  seven  or  eight  years 
old,  Boone  began  to  teach  the  lad  to  be  a  hunter. 
He  took  him  on  long  tramps  and  told  him  hunter's 
secrets.  Often  they  were  absent  several  days  at  a 
time,  hitting  the  trail  together  like  old  "pals.'' 
At  night,  however,  when  they  were  stretched  in 
their  blankets  on  the  ground  in  "open"  camp,  with 
their  feet  toward  the  fire,  the  little  boy  lay  in  his 
father's  arms,  warm  and  well  protected  from  the 
snow  which  sometimes  overtook  them.  When  a 
deer  had  been  killed,  James  watched  his  father  skin 
it  and  hang  it  high  up  on  some  tree  out  of  the  reach 
of  wolves  and  bears.  When  the  day's  chase  was 
over,  he  helped  him  shoulder  the  kill  and  carry  it 
to  camp,  where  they  had  supper  and  perhaps  one 
of  Boone's  best  stories.  Then  the  lad  placed  their 
moccasins  to  dry  at   the   fire  —  if    Indians  were 


yo 


DANIEL  BOONE 


feared,  they  were  hung  on  the  rifles,  ready  at  any 
instant  —  and  he  and  his  father  fell  asleep.  As 
the  child  grew  older,  their  hunting  expeditions 
lasted  longer  —  for  two  or  three  months  sometimes 
—  and  their  companionship  deepened  as  they  suf- 
fered together  the  dangers  and  privations  of  the 
woods  and  enjoyed  its  spoils. 

When  Boone  was  twenty-six  years  old,  he  began 
in  earnest  the  business  of  exploring  for  which  he 
was  to  be  famed.  He  threaded  his  way  westward 
along  the  Watauga  River,  a  wild  but  tempting 
region  in  Tennessee,  where  soon  after  an  associa- 
tion of  settlers  from  North  Carolina  and  Virginia 
founded  a  community  and  adopted  the  first  con- 
stitution west  of  the  Alleghany  Mountains.  There 
also  Daniel  proved  himself  a  successful  hunter. 
Upon  a  beech  tree,  standing  until  a  few  years  ago 
on  the  banks  of  a  small  stream  emptying  into  the 
Watauga,  now  known  as  Boone's  Creek,  later 
explorers  found  this  inscription,  cut  sharply  in 
the  bark  with  a  hunting  knife  : 

D.  Boone  cilled  A  BAR  ofi  this  tree  year  iy6o. 

It  is  fortunate  that  in  boyish  fashion  he  cut  his 
name  and  hunting  exploits  upon  trees  and  rocks, 
as  many  such  legends  have  helped  to    trace   his 


EXPLORING  NEW   COUNTRY  71 

wanderings.  From  them  it  is  evident  that  he  was 
more  familiar  with  rifles  than  with  spelhng  books. 

A  year  later  there  crossed  the  mountains  another 
hunting  party  in  which  ''came  Daniel  Boone  from 
the  Yadkin,  in  North  Carolina,  and  traveled  with 
them  as  low  as  the  place  where  Abingdon  now 
stands  and  there  left  them."  Three  years  later, 
in  1764,  he  returned  to  the  Tennessee  country  with 
another  company  of  hunters  in  the  employ  of  a 
party  of  land  speculators.  He  was  sent  thither 
to  reconnoiter  and  to  report  concerning  the  region 
about  the  Cumberland  River.  Big  game  was 
abundant  there,  and  Daniel's  love  of  the  chase  was 
fully  satisfied. 

While  looking  down  from  a  Cumberland  moun- 
tain peak  upon  a  herd  of  buffaloes  grazing  below, 
it  is  said  that  Boone  exclaimed  :  "I  am  richer  than 
the  man  mentioned  in  Scripture,  who  owned  the 
cattle  on  a  thousand  hills  —  I  own  the  wild  beasts 
of  more  than  a  thousand  valleys !" 

In  1765,  he  abandoned  western  trails,  and  in 
September  mounted  his  horse  and  rode  away  with 
seven  companions  through  South  Carolina  and 
Georgia  to  Florida,  then  belonging  to  Spain.  He 
had  a  notion  of  setthng  there,  and  explored  the 
country  from  St.  Augustine  to  Pensacola.  The 
journey  was  a  dangerous  one.     Trails  were  miry, 


72 


DANIEL  BOONE 


everglades  and  almost  impenetrable  swamps 
blocked  their  way,  and  the  cabins  of  pioneers, 
where  they  had  planned  to  spend  their  nights, 
were  far  apart.  In  fact,  they  might  have  starved 
at  one  time,  if  certain  roving  Seminoles  had  not 
taken  pity  on  them.  In  spite  of  his  wretched  expe- 
riences, however,  Daniel  was  charmed  with  Pensa- 
cola,  and  purchased  a  house  and  lot  there  for 
himself.  But  when  four  months  later  he  was  once 
again  at  home,  telling  of  the  trials  of  the  trip  and 
of  the  beauties  of  the  southern  country,  Rebecca 
would  not  Hsten  to  Boone's  plan  to  move.  Should 
she  allow  her  husband,  of  all  men  a  hunter  by 
nature,  to  settle  in  a  country  almost  gameless  save 
for  weeping  alligators?  Consequently  the  Florida 
scheme  was  abandoned,  and  fortunate  it  seems, 
for  Boone  would  never  have  played  so  important 
a  part  in  American  history  if  he  had  settled  in  the 
far  south  where  land  to  the  west  was  bounded  by 
the  Gulf  of  Mexico  instead  of  by  a  wilderness  to 
be  conquered. 

Wherever  his  explorations  led  him,  Daniel  noticed 
that  game  trails  always  retreated  from  the  settle- 
ments and  always  led  to  the  west.  As  he  pursued 
them,  visions  recurred  to  him  —  the  visions  which 
John  Finley  had  awakened,  as  he  mended  and 
hammered    for    the   ill-fated    Braddock.     To    the 


EXPLORING  NEW  COUNTRY  73 

west,  according  to  Finley,  lay  Kentucky,  a  paradise 
for  game.  Perhaps  the  big  game  of  North  Carolina 
was  wending  its  way  there,  now  that  its  old  haunts 
had  been  molested.  Perhaps  it  was  drawn,  as  if 
by  magic,  to  that  region  said  to  be  the  wildest 
and  richest  in  all  the  continent.  The  Indians  valued 
it;  it  was  the  common  hunting-ground  of  the 
Creeks,  Cherokees,  and  Choctaws  of  the  South,  and 
the  Shawnees,  Delawares,  and  Wyandots  of  the 
North.  Was  not  the  time  come  at  last  for  Boone 
to  see  Kentucky  for  himself? 

Life  in  those  days  in  North  Carolina  was  not 
entirely  happy,  and  if  Kentucky  soil  should  prove 
richer  than  his  own  valley,  it  would  be  well  to  move 
thither.     With    the    increase   in    the   number   of 
hunters  and  in  the  area  of  cleared  land,  Boone  was 
obUged  to  make  long  excursions  in  order  to  find 
game   large   enough  to  please  him.     Customs  in 
North  Carohna  were  also  changing  and  becoming 
extravagant.     Scotch    adventurers    had    come    to 
the  pro\dnce  to  make  money  through  trade,  and 
the   well-to-do   people   soon   appeared   in  clothes 
made    of    imported    goods.     Homemade    articles 
found  Httle  favor,  and  manual  labor,  which  pre- 
viously had  been  deemed   worthy,  was  relegated 
to  slaves.     Consequently,  those  who  wished  to  live 
frugally  and  save  for  *'a  rainy  day"  were  scorned. 


74  DANIEL  BOONE 

Boone  hated  pretension  and  luxury.  To  him  they 
seemed  effeminate,  and  it  is  no  wonder  that  he 
looked  forward  with  eagerness  to  that  uncivilized 
region  called  Kentucky.  The  rascality  of  the  land 
agent  of  whom  the  Boones  had  bought  their  lands, 
proved  another  thorn  in  the  flesh.  The  previous 
owner,  Earl  Granville,  demanded  new  deeds  for 
which  large  fees  were  charged,  claiming  flaws  in  the 
land  titles.  In  protest  Boone  had  already  moved 
three  times  since  his  return  to  Sugar  Tree,  each 
time  going  farther  from  the  settlements,  until  he 
finally  built  in  the  foothills  of  the  Alleghanies, 
where  there  was  game  in  plenty  and  excellent 
ranges  for  his  live  stock.  He  chose  his  home  on  the 
Upper  Yadkin  near  Holman's  Ford,  in  a  little 
horseshoe-shaped  swamp  and  canebrake  surround- 
ing a  ridge. 

At  length,  in  the  autumn  of  1767,  his  mind  was 
made  up,  and  he  set  out  for  Kentucky  with  a 
special  friend,  William  Hill,  and  probably  with 
Squire  Boone,  his  brother,  also.  They  crossed  the 
mountains  and  came  down  into  the  valleys  of  the 
Holston  and  Clinch  rivers,  made  their  way  to  the 
West  Fork  of  the  Big  Sandy,  and  thence  followed 
the  river  down  for  a  hundred  miles,  trying  to  find 
the  Ohio  River,  until  they  came  to  a  buffalo  path 
which  led  them  to  a  salt  Hck  near  the  present  site 


EXPLORING  NEW  COUNTRY  75 

of  Prestonburg  in  eastern  Kentucky.  There  they 
were  snow-bound  and  forced  to  camp  for  the  winter. 
Little  did  the  travelers  dream  that  they  were 
already  in  the  paradise  for  which  they  searched, 
although  game  of  all  kinds  was  so  abundant  and 
came  in  such  great  numbers  to  the  lick,  that  their 
winter's  hunting  proved  most  profitable. 

When  spring  came  and  the  snow  had  melted, 
they  attempted  to  travel  farther  westward,  but 
briers  made  exploring  so  difficult  that  Daniel 
decided  it  would  be  impossible  to  reach  Kentucky 
as  they  had  planned,  by  way  of  the  Ohio  River  to 
the  Falls.  So  the  expedition  was  abandoned,  and 
the  little  party  re-crossed  the  mountains  and  de- 
scended into  their  own  valleys,  happy  with  the 
success  of  their  winter's  hunt. 

As  Boone  wound  his  way  home,  was  he  laying 
plans  for  a  future  trip  to  Kentucky?  We  do  not 
know.  Perhaps  he  would  have  been  satisfied  with 
this  attempt,  if  a  peddler's  wagon  had  not  jogged 
into  the  Upper  Yadkin  Valley  about  that  time,  and 
the  owner  appeared  at  Daniel's  own  door  to  tempt 
Rebecca  with  his  wares. 

That  peddler  proved  to  be  John  Finley,  the  light- 
hearted,  venturesome  comrade  of  Braddock's  road, 
the  lover  of  Kentucky ! 


CHAPTER  IX 
Among  Hostile  Indians 

Exciting  days  followed  in  the  Boone  cabin  on 
the  river  bluff.  Finley  again  inspired  Daniel  with 
his  old  enthusiasm,  and  once  more  they  pledged 
themselves  to  explore  Kentucky  together.  Absorb- 
ing plans  were  made  by  the  winter  fireside,  for 
Finley  remained  as  Daniel's  guest  until  spring, 
having  come  to  the  valley  too  late  in  the  year  for 
them  to  begin  at  once  their  march  across  the 
mountains. 

Boone's  friends  were  as  discontented  with  the 
changed  conditions  in  the  settlements  as  Daniel 
himself,  and  it  was  easy  for  him  and  for  the  jovial 
Finley  to  persuade  four  of  them  to  join  an  expedi- 
tion to  Kentucky,  which  Finley  would  lead,  by  way 
of  Cumberland  Gap,  into  the  delectable  land  of 
forests  and  canebrakes,  of  elk,  deer,  and  buffaloes. 

Finally  the  spring  crops  had  been  planted  and  the 
necessary  outfit  for  the  journey  was  ready  —  the 
deerskin  garb,  the  arms,  rifle,  hunting-knife,  toma- 
hawk, bullet-pouch,  and  powderhorn;  the  two 
horses,  one  for  Boone  to  ride  and  the  other  to  bear 

76 


AMONG  HOSTILE  INDIANS  77 

the  pack  saddle,  with  its  little  store  of  provisions,  a 
bearskin  blanket,  and  camp-kettle  strapped  on 
behind.  Boone,  together  with  Finley  and  the  Yad- 
kin settlers,  who  were  to  serve  as  hunters  and  camp 
keepers,  bade  good-by  to  those  they  loved,  and 
turned  their  horses  toward  the  great  wilderness 
which  they  hoped  to  conquer. 

It  was  a  sad  day.  Although  Daniel  loved  the 
free  life  of  the  open,  he  was  devotedly  fond  of  his 
family  and  home,  and  this  exile  meant  long 
separation  and  perhaps  death.  Life  has  many 
uncertainties,  and  the  westward  trail  was  perilous 
indeed.  As  he  rode  away,  he  at  least  found  comfort 
in  the  thought  that  during  his  absence  his  wife  and 
children  would  not  want.  As  Rebecca  was  an 
excellent  manager,  he  could  rely  on  her  ability  to 
direct  the  small  farm,  which  James  and  Israel 
would  help  to  carry  on.  His  wife  would  also  have 
the  aid  of  Daniel's  brother  Squire,  who  remained 
at  home  to  harvest  his  own  and  Daniel's  crops.  He 
was  to  follow  the  trail  to  Kentucky  later,  with  fresh 
horses  and  ammunition.  A  picturesque  little 
cavalcade  they  made  on  that  bright  spring  morning 
so  long  ago  —  six  strong  and  fearless  hunters, 
dressed  in  their  quaint  deerskins  and  riding  reso- 
lutely away  to  a  doubtful  land.  Rebecca  stood 
with  the  children  and  waved  them  out  of  sight,  in 


78  DANIEL  BOONE 

spite  of  tears.  Like  all  great  undertakings,  this 
western  journey  demanded  sacrifices  of  every  one 
concerned. 

Many  years  later,  Boone  told  the  story  of  his 
conquest  of  the  wilderness  to  John  Filson,  the  first 
historian  of  Kentucky,  who  unfortunately  wrote  it 
down  in  his  own  formal  style  instead  of  in  Daniel's 
simple  language. 

''It  was  on  the  first  of  May,  in  the  year  1769,'' 
the  record  begins,  ''that  I  resigned  my  domestic 
happiness  for  a  time,  and  left  my  family  and 
peaceable  habitation  on  the  Yadkin  River,  in  North 
Carolina,  to  wander  through  the  wilderness  of 
America,  in  quest  of  the  country  of  Kentucky  in 
company  with  John  Finley,  John  Stewart,  Joseph 
Holden,  James  Mooney,  and  William  Cooley.  We 
proceeded  successfully,  and  after  a  long  and 
fatiguing  journey,  through  a  mountainous  wilder- 
ness, in  a  westward  direction,  on  the  seventh  day 
of  June  following  we  found  ourselves  on  Red  River, 
where  John  Finley  had  formerly  been  trading  with 
the  Indians,  and,  from  the  top  of  an  eminence,  saw 
with  pleasure  the  beautiful  level  of  Kentucky. 
Here  let  me  observe,  that  for  some  time  we  had 
experienced  the  most  uncomfortable  weather  as  a 
prehbation  [foretaste]  of  our  future  suffering." 

Save  for   the  brief  reference   to   the  weather, 


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AMONG  HOSTILE  INDIANS  79 

Boone  said  nothing  of  any  trials  which  they  may 
have  experienced  as  they  scaled  the  Blue  Ridge 
and  Stone  and  Iron  mountains,  nor  of  hardships  as 
they  came  down  into  the  valleys  of  the  Holston 
and  Clinch  rivers  in  Tennessee.  Perhaps  they 
were  forgotten  in  the  more  severe  afflictions  to 
follow. 

As  they  left  the  Clinch  region,  they  crossed 
various  smaller  streams  and  lesser  hills,  and  at 
length  they  came  into  Powell's  Valley,  lying  at  the 
foot  of  the  Cumberland  Mountains,  where  nestled 
the  last  white  settlement  of  the  frontier.  There 
they  found  an  old  hunter's  trail  which  Finley  knew, 
and  this  led  them  through  Cumberland  Gap  to 
the  ''Warriors'  Path,"  a  well-trodden  way  over 
which  the  Northern  Indian  war-parties  came  and 
went  in  eastern  Kentucky.  They  followed  it  until 
they  reached  a  tributary  of  the  Kentucky  River, 
in  Estill  County,  now  called  Station  Camp  Creek, 
because  there  Boone  built  a  station  camp,  to  serve 
as  a  habitation  during  their  exploration  and  hunt- 
ing.    Daniel  Boone  had  at  last  reached  Kentucky  ! 

"At  this  place,"  he  said  to  his  quaint  biographer, 
"we  camped,  and  made  a  shelter  from  the  in- 
clement season,  and  began  to  hunt  and  reconnoiter 
the  country.  We  found  everywhere  abundance 
of  wild  beasts  of  all  sorts  through  this  vast  forest. 


8o  DANIEL  BOONE 

The  buffaloes  v/ere  more  frequent  than  I  have  seen 
cattle  in  the  settlements,  browsing  on  the  leaves 
of  the  cane,  or  cropping  the  herbage  on  those 
extensive  plains,  fearless  because  ignorant  of  the 
\dolence  of  man.  Sometimes  we  saw  hundreds  in 
a  drove,  and  the  numbers  about  the  salt  springs 
were  amazing.  In  this  forest,  the  habitation  of 
beasts  of  every  kind  natural  to  America,  we  prac- 
ticed hunting  mth  great  success,  until  the  twenty- 
second  day  of  December  following." 

Even  in  his  old  age  Boone  did  not  forget 
the  profound  impression  which  the  wonders  of 
Kentucky  had  made  upon  him  as  a  man  of 
thirty-five. 

No  government  or  institution  fitted  out  these 
explorers,  as  is  customary  nowadays.  Expenses 
as  well  as  hardships  they  bore  themselves.  So  it 
was  necessary  for  them  to  begin  their  hunting  at 
once,  in  order  that  they  might  have  fresh  meat 
for  food  and  store  up  furs  and  skins  to  be  sold  later 
on.  Deerskins  usually  brought  a  dollar  apiece; 
beaver  furs  were  worth  about  two  dollars  and  a 
half,  while  otter  pelts  fetched  from  three  to  five 
dollars.  The  more  bulky  skins  of  bears,  elks,  and 
buffaloes  were  rarely  carried  to  distant  markets, 
but  were  utilized  at  home  —  elk  hides  for  harnesses, 
and  bear  and  buffalo  skins  for  bedding.     Even  some 


AMONG  HOSTILE  INDIANS  8i 

of  us  to-day  have  been  tucked  under  buffalo  robes, 
when  we  have  been  sleighing. 

Boone  and  his  comrades  hunted  in  pairs,  for  the 
sake  of  protection  as  well  as  companionship,  while 
two  remained  to  guard  the  camp.  They  wandered 
far  and  near,  Daniel  in  particular  learning  every 
hill  and  dale  in  the  region,  and  their  stores  grew 
rapidly.  They  skinned  their  animals  on  the  spot, 
and  in  the  evenings  smoked  the  meat,  which  later 
would  be  jerked,  and  dried  or  cured  the  skins. 
The  bear's  oil  and  buffalo  tallow  were  saved  to  be 
used  as  cooking-fat. 

One  December  day  Daniel  and  his  brother-in-law, 
John  Stewart,  who  was  usually  his  hunting-comrade 
and  a  hvely  talker,  set  out  to  explore  the  land  along 
the  banks  of  the  Kentucky  River.  The  day  passed 
pleasantly.  Their  rambling  took  them  through  a 
great  forest  where  some  trees  were  in  blossom  while 
others  bore  delicious  fruit.  Much  game  was  to 
be  seen,  and  altogether  the  country  was,  as  Filson 
says,  "a  series  of  wonders  and  a  fund  of  delight." 

Toward  sunset,  however,  as  they  were  chmbing 
a  slight  hill,  a  number  of  Indians  rushed  from  a 
thick  canebrake,  surrounded  the  two  hunters, 
threw  them  on  the  ground,  and  bound  their  arms 
to  their  bodies.  Boone  and  Stewart  knew  that 
Indian  paths  crossed  Kentucky  in  various  direc- 


82  DANIEL  BOONE 

tions,  and  that,  if  they  ventured  into  this  hunting- 
ground,  they  would  be  exposed  to  dangers.  Finley 
had  told  them  so,  but  for  six  months  at  least  there 
had  been  no  signs  of  red  men.  Now  appeared  a 
band  of  Shawnee  horsemen  who  were  on  their 
way  back  to  the  Ohio  after  a  hunt  on  Green  River, 
and,  according  to  the  old  story-teller,  '^thetimeof 
our  sorrow  was  now  arrived." 

In  some  ways,  the  Shawnees  may  have  been 
superior  to  other  Indian  tribes.  They  at  least 
thought  themselves  so.  ''The  Master  of  Life, 
who  was  himself  an  Indian,"  said  one  of  their  chiefs 
at  a  convention  held  at  Fort  Wayne  in  1803,  "made 
the  Shawnees  before  any  of  the  human  race ;  and 
they  sprang  from  his  brain.  He  gave  them  all  the 
knowledge  he  himself  possessed,  and  placed  them 
upon  the  great  island,  and  all  the  other  red  people 
are  descended  from  the  Shawnees.  After  he  had 
made  the  Shawnees,  he  made  the  French  out  of 
his  breast,  the  Dutch  out  of  his  feet,  and  the  'Long 
Knives*  ^  out  of  his  hands.  All  these  inferior 
races  of  men  he  made  white  and  placed  them  be- 
yond the  ill-smelhng  lake  [the  Atlantic  Ocean] .  The 
Shawnees  for  many  ages  continued  to  be  masters 

^The  term  "Long  Knives"  was  an  Indian  epithet  for  the 
English,  either  because  they  used  swords,  or  because  they  used 
knives  rather  than  the  stone  instruments  of  the  savages. 


AMONG  HOSTILE  INDIANS  83 

of  the  continent,  using  the  knowledge  they  had 
received  from  the  Great  Spirit  in  such  a  manner 
as  to  be  pleasing  to  him,  and  to  secure  their  own 
happiness. 

"In  a  great  length  of  time,  however,  they  became 
corrupt,  and  the  Master  of  Life  told  them  that  he 
would  take  away  from  them  the  knowledge  which 
they  possessed  and  give  it  to  the  white  people,  to 
be  restored  when  they  would  deserve  it.  Many 
ages  after  that,  they  saw  something  white  approach- 
ing their  shores.  At  first  they  took  it  for  a  great 
bird,  but  they  soon  found  it  to  be  a  monstrous 
canoe  filled  with  the  very  people  who  had  got  the 
knowledge  which  belonged  to  the  Shawnees.  After 
these  white  people  landed,  they  were  not  content 
with  having  the  knowledge  which  belonged  to  the 
Shawnees,  but  they  usurped  their  lands  also.  They 
pretended,  indeed,  to  have  purchased  these  lands, 
but  the  very  goods  they  gave  for  them  were  more 
the  property  of  the  Indians  than  the  white  people, 
because  the  knowledge  which  enabled  them  to 
manufacture  these  goods  actually  belonged  to  the 
Shawnees. 

''But  these  things  will  soon  have  an  end.  The 
Master  of  Life  is  about  to  restore  to  the  Shawnees 
both  their  knowledge  and  their  rights,  and 
trample  the  Long  Knives  under  his  feet." 


84  DANIEL  BOONE 

Whether  or  not  they  were  more  able  than  other 
Indian  nations,  the  Shawnees  were  a  restless,  fero- 
cious people,  and,  like  all  other  tribes,  held  a  grudge 
against  the  colonists. 

One  of  the  Shawnee  band  spoke  English,  and  he 
told  the  hunters  that,  according  to  their  treaty  with 
the  white  men  —  a  treaty  of  which  Boone  probably 
knew  nothing  —  Kentucky  was  the  Indians'  own 
hunting-ground.  He  said  that  the  white  men  had 
promised  to  keep  out  of  it,  and  that,  if  Boone  and 
Stewart  dared  to  return  again,  *Hhe  wasps  and 
yellow- jackets  will  sting  you  severely." 

Then  the  savages  ordered  Boone  and  Stewart  to 
lead  them  to  their  camp.  Being  unable  to  resist, 
the  borderers  did  as  they  were  told.  As  they  came 
to  the  station,  the  Shawnees  suddenly  rushed  for- 
ward and  seized  the  others  of  the  party.  With  great 
glee  they  stole  all  the  precious  store  of  pelts,  jerked 
meat,  and  arms,  except  just  enough  for  the  settlers' 
return  journey  to  North  Carolina,  and  made  off 
with  them  cunningly. 

Great  was  Boone's  anger  and  distress.  Finley 
advised  them  all  to  flee  at  once,  but  Daniel  declared 
that  he  would  not  go  home  a  poorer  man  than  he 
had  set  out.  Stewart  alone  agreed  with  him. 
They  two  decided  to  pursue  the  Shawnees,  although 
the  Indian  band  was  a  large  one,  and  attempt  to 


AMONG  HOSTILE  INDIANS  8$ 

regain  their  stolen  possessions.  With  great  caution 
they  hurried  forward,  and,  after  two  days,  overtook 
the  Indians.  They  secreted  themselves  in  the 
bushes  until  dark,  and  then,  in  spite  of  the  crackHng 
of  twigs  and  the  thud  of  hoofs,  they  managed  to 
make  off  with  four  or  five  horses. 

Boone  acted  cleverly,  but  the  Shawnees  were 
not  to  be  outwitted  by  any  white  man.  They 
turned  in  pursuit,  and,  after  a  two-days'  chase, 
caught  Daniel  and  Stewart,  made  them  pris- 
oners for  the  second  time,  and  took  them  to  the 
Shawnee  villages  on  the  Scioto  River  in  the  Ohio 
region. 

Daniel's  knowledge  of  Indian  characteristics, 
which  he  had  been  acquiring  from  boyhood,  stood 
him  in  good  stead.  He  did  as  the  savages  them- 
selves would  have  done  —  pretended  indifference  — 
and  so  got  the  best  of  the  red  men  after  all. 

"The  Indians  plundered  us  of  what  we  had," 
his  story  goes,  "and  kept  us  in  confinement  seven 
days,  treating  us  with  common  savage  usage.  Dur- 
ing this  time  we  showed  no  uneasiness,  which  made 
them  less  suspicious  of  us.  But  in  the  dead  of 
night,  as  we  lay  in  a  thick  canebrake  by  a  large  fire, 
when  sleep  had  locked  up  their  senses,  ...  I 
touched  my  companion,  and  gently  woke  him.  We 
improved  this  favorable  opportunity,  and  departed, 


86  DANIEL  BOONE 

leaving  them  to  take  their  rest,  and  speedily 
directed  our  course  towards  our  old  camp." 

They  crept  away  from  the  firehght  into  the 
blackness  of  the  forest  night,  and  felt  their  way 
along  through  trees  and  canebrakes  as  best  they 
could.  Doubtless  Boone's  active  mind  had  been 
planning  this  strategy  ever  since  their  capture,  and 
with  his  calculations  and  wood  lore  they  kept  their 
bearings  in  the  dark.  All  the  next  day  they  hur- 
ried on,  not  daring  to  stop  for  rest,  and  in  safety 
reached  their  station.  Had  the  Indians  been  on  the 
warpath  instead  of  hunting,  Boone  and  Stewart 
would  have  found  themselves  more  closely  watched, 
and  they  probably  would  have  been  pursued  and 
captured.  If  a  prisoner  to  whom  the  Indians  had 
been  lenient  tried  to  run  away,  he  committed  a 
mortal  offense,  according  to  savage  etiquette,  and 
had  to  pay  the  penalty. 

The  camp  still  stood  in  its  dense  thicket,  but  it 
was  empty.  Finley,  Cooley,  Mooney,  and  Holden 
had  disappeared.  Believing  that  Daniel  and  Stew- 
art had  given  their  lives  for  their  foolhardiness, 
they  had  turned  back  home.  As  it  chanced.  Squire 
Boone  —  the  crops  having  been  gathered  —  was 
coming  westward  at  that  time  over  the  Warriors' 
Path  with  horses  and  ammunition,  and  with  him 
came  a  hunter,  named  Alexander  Neeley,  whom  he 


AMONG  HOSTILE  INDIANS  87 

had  met  in  the  mountains.  There,  in  the  famous 
red  men's  trail,  Squire  heard  all  the  news  of  Daniel 
which  the  little  party  had  to  offer,  and,  supposing 
with  Finley  and  the  others  that  his  brother  had 
perished,  he  turned  back  sorrowfully,  and  the  six 
journeyed  homeward  together. 

After  their  successful  escape  from  the  Shawnee 
band  on  the  Scioto,  Boone  and  Stewart  kept  on 
eastward  in  search  of  their  companions,  and  early 
in  January  overtook  the  sad  party,  well  but  exceed- 
ingly wan  and  ragged.  It  is  said  that  Finley  and 
the  others  noticed  two  men  coming  through  the 
forest,  and,  unable  to  see  whether  they  were  white 
men  or  Indians,  they  seized  their  rifles  and  took  to 
the  trees  for  shelter  and  observation.  The 
strangers  gave  the  signs  of  white  men,  but  that  did 
not  satisfy  Finley,  as  Indians  knew  and  often  used 
these  signs  to  deceive  the  settlers. 

Finally  Boone  cried,  "Hello,  strangers!  Who 
are  you?" 

The  others  answered,  "White  men,  and  friends." 

Then  Daniel  and  Squire  recognized  each  other, 
and  great  was  the  rejoicing.  Soon  after,  as  they 
sat  about  the  fire,  eating,  —  for  probably  Boone  and 
Stewart  were  desperately  hungry,  —  Squire  made 
Daniel  happy  with  good  news  from  his  family. 

In  spite  of  his  disheartening  experiences,  Boone 


88  DANIEL  BOONE 

was  as  determined  as  ever  not  to  go  home  empty- 
handed.  He  discussed  the  situation  at  length,  and 
decided  to  return  west  for  another  season  of  hunt- 
ing. Squire  Boone,  Stewart,  and  Neeley  were 
ready  to  venture  with  him,  but  the  others  had  lost 
courage.  They  preferred  civilization  to  the  en- 
raged Indians  of  Kentucky.  The  good  friends, 
Finley  and  Boone,  said  good-by  with  much  regret, 
and  took  their  separate  ways  through  the  forest. 
As  far  as  is  known,  they  never  saw  each  other  after 
this  parting  in  the  wilderness. 

The  two  brothers,  with  Stewart  and  Neeley, 
chose  a  new  site  for  their  camp  farther  from  the 
Warriors'  Path,  on  the  northern  bank  of  the  Ken- 
tucky River  near  the  mouth  of  the  Red.  Here 
they  built  a  canoe,  and  paddled  many  hours  along 
the  river-bank,  set  traps  for  otters  and  beavers, 
and  hunted,  ate,  and  slept,  as  tired  and  successful 
hunters  should. 

One  night  late  in  January  or  early  February, 
Stewart  failed  to  return  to  the  camp.  His  disap- 
pearance was  alarming.  Search  was  made,  but 
nothing  more  was  ever  known  of  him  until  Boone 
happened  in  the  region  five  years  later,  and  found, 
in  the  hollow  trunk  of  a  sycamore  tree  on  Rock 
Castle  River,  the  bones  of  a  human  being  and  a 
powderhorn  bearing  Stewart's  name.     Neeley  was 


AMONG  HOSTILE  INDIANS  89 

terrified  at  the  vanishing  of  their  genial  friend,  and, 
gathering  together  his  winter's  stock  of  furs,  hastily- 
set  of!  for  home.  Daniel  and  Squire  were  left  alone, 
the  only  white  men  in  that  wild  and  dangerous 

country. 

*'Thus  situated,  many  hundred  miles  from  our 
families,  in  the  howling  wilderness,"  writes  Filson, 
''I  believe  few  would  have  equally  enjoyed  the 
happiness  we  experienced.  I  often  observed  to 
my  brother,  'You  see  now  how  little  nature  requires 
to  be  satisfied.  FeHcity,  the  companion  of  content, 
is  rather  found  in  our  own  breasts  than  in  the  en- 
joyment of  external  things.  I  firmly  believe  it 
requires  but  a  little  philosophy  to  make  a  man 
happy  in  whatsoever  state  he  is !' " 

They  built  a  little  house  for  winter,  and  con- 
tinued to  hunt  every  day.  Not  an  Indian  was 
seen.  When  spring  came,  their  ammunition  was 
almost  exhausted.  Hunters  must  have  powder 
and  lead,  and  it  appeared  necessary  for  one  of  the 
brothers  to  return  to  the  settlement  for  suppUes. 
They  also  wanted  to  sell  their  stores  in  order  to  pay 
the  large  debts  which  they  had  contracted  for  the 
expenses  of  their  undertaking.  It  was  agreed  that 
time  and  money  would  be  saved,  and  experience 
gained,  if  one  remained  to  keep  the  camp,  arms,  and 
traps  in  order,  while  the  other  returned  to  transact 


90  DANIEL  BOONE 

the  business  at  home.  Daniel  decided  to  be  the 
one  to  stay  in  Kentucky.  He  wanted  to  explore 
still  farther,  for  by  this  time  he  had  determined  to 
move  his  family  thither,  foreseeing  that,  before 
many  years,  Kentucky  would  be  settled,  and  that, 
if  he  desired  to  be  a  leader,  he  must  build  his  home 
there  soon. 

On  May  first,  1770,  just  one  year  after  Daniel 
had  left  the  Yadkin  Valley,  Squire  Boone  loaded 
his  horses  with  many  furs  and  much  jerked  meat, 
bade  Daniel  a  resolute  good-by,  and  turned  down 
the  Warriors'  Path.  A  strange  May  Day  for  the 
brothers  —  one  setting  out  alone  to  travel  four 
hundred  miles  through  the  wilderness,  the  other 
left  alone  in  the  wilderness  to  wait! 


CHAPTER  X 

Alone  in  the  Wilderness 

The  young  leaves  rustled  in  the  spring  air,  and 
here  and  there  a  dead  twig  cracked  and  fell  to  the 
ground.  Save  for  these  sounds  of  nature  and  an 
occasional  wild  call,  the  woods  were  still.  Squire 
was  gone,  and  only  fresh  hoof-tracks  marked  his  de- 
parture along  the  trail.  Daniel  stood  and  Kstened. 
He  was  alone,  *' without  bread,  salt,  or  sugar,  with- 
out company  of  my  fellow-creatures,  or  even  a  horse 
or  dog."     And  wilderness  in  every  direction. 

Many  years  later,  as  he  recalled  this  lonely  mo- 
ment and  the  lonely  days  which  followed,  he 
admitted  that  for  a  time  he  was  very  melancholy. 
Thoughts  of  his  home  and  his  wife's  anxiety  at  his 
plight  made  him  uneasy,  and  he  was  obliged  to 
exercise  much  philosophy  in  order  to  keep  up  his 
courage.  This  unhappiness,  however,  soon  passed, 
and  he  found  constant  delight  in  his  explorations. 
As  he  said,  ''No  populous  city,  with  all  the  varieties 
of  commerce  and  stately  structures,  could  afford  so 
much  pleasure  to  my  mind,  as  the  beauties  of 
nature  which  I  found  here." 

91 


92  DANIEL  BOONE 

He  tramped  day  after  day,  hunting  only  now  and 
then,  when  food  was  necessary,  in  order  to  make  his 
ammunition  last  until  Squire's  return.  He  was 
ever  on  the  lookout  for  a  species  of  nettle  which 
filled  the  woods  at  that  time.  When  it  was  once 
crushed  by  a  foot,  it  retained  the  footprint  almost 
like  snow.  Even  a  turkey's  track  could  be  traced 
in  it.  Boone  could  thus  tell  the  movements  of  the 
Indians,  who,  having  no  one  to  fear,  paid  little 
heed  to  the  telltale  plant.  But  Daniel  himself 
stepped  carefully. 

One  tour  through  the  country  pleased  him  greatly. 
He  made  his  way  almost  across  the  land  now  in- 
cluded in  the  state,  and  from  the  summit  of  a 
high  ridge  discovered  the  Ohio  River,  a  beautiful, 
flowing  boundary  to  the  west.  Below  him  lay 
ample  plains,  and  in  the  distance  rose  cloud- 
capped  mountains.  He  kindled  a  fire  near  a  spring 
of  sweet  water,  and  roasted  the  loin  of  a  buck 
which  he  had  killed  a  few  hours  earlier,  and,  when 
night  came  down,  he  fashioned  a  bed  and  fell  asleep. 

Such  uninterrupted  excursions  made  him  per- 
fectly familiar  with  Kentucky.  He  found  the 
climate  temperate  and  healthful,  the  well-timbered 
surface  broken  with  hills  and  pretty  plains,  the  soil 
dark  and  rich.  The  trees  were  large  and  of  many 
kinds  —  the  honey  locust,  bearing  its  fruit  in  long 


ALONE  IN  THE  WILDERNESS  93 

pods ;  the  coffee  tree,  somewhat  resembling  the 
black  oak ;  the  papaw  tree,  the  cucumber  tree,  the 
buckeye,  the  mulberry,  as  well  as  the  more  common 
trees  which  grew  elsewhere.  Cane  was  plenty,  and 
grew  from  three  to  twelve  feet  high.  When  there 
was  no  cane,  wild  rye,  buffalo-grass,  and  clover 
abounded,  with  pepper-grass  and  wild  lettuce  here 
and  there.  Many  flowers  brightened  the  plains 
and  valleys,  among  them  the  brilliant  cardinal 
flower. 

In  the  various  rivers  watering  Kentucky  there 
were  buffalo-fish  and  catfish,  trout,  mullet,  perch, 
lively  eels,  sunfish,  and  suckers.  Frequently  Boone 
came  upon  turkeys,  quail,  and  grouse;  and  now 
and  then  he  saw  the  white  feathers  of  an  ivory-billed 
woodcock  flash  through  the  woods,  or  heard  the 
strange  call  of  a  great  owl,  sounding  like  a  human 
being  in  distress.  We  know  that  he  found  animals 
enough  to  please  even  his  extravagant  desires — 
buffaloes  by  hundreds  at  the  salt  licks  or  in  the  grass 
or  canebrakes ;  panthers  and  wild  cats ;  wolves, 
prowling  at  night ;  bears,  deer,  and  elk ;  the  water 
creatures,  beavers,  otters,  minks,  and  muskrats; 
the  common  foxes,  rabbits,  squirrels,  raccoons, 
ground-hogs,  polecats,  and  opossums ;  and  on  rare 
occasions  a  frog  or  reptile,  for  Kentucky  had  few 
swamps. 


94  DANIEL  BOONE 

At  intervals  he  returned  to  his  old  camp  which 
remained  undisturbed,  although  Daniel  felt  that 
Indians  often  visited  it.  To  escape  any  chance 
onslaught  from  them  at  night,  he  usually  slept 
in  the  canebrakes.  There  he  appears  to  have  had 
no  more  fear  than  in  the  camp,  although  his  rest 
was  sometimes  broken  by  the  howling  of  wolves. 

Most  of  his  time  he  spent  near  the  Licking  and 
Kentucky  rivers  and  along  the  Ohio,  going  as  far 
down  as  the  Falls  and  the  present  site  of  Louisville, 
where  he  found  an  old  fur-trading  station  of  which 
Finley  had  told  him.  Many  strange  and  curious 
things  interested  him  as  wxll  as  the  beautiful  scen- 
ery —  the  salt  springs  and  the  licks  in  particular, 
Big  Lick,  Blue  Licks,  and  Big  Bone  Lick.  Buffaloes 
came  to  these  places  in  such  numbers  to  lick  the 
salty  soil  that  they  had  worn  roads  through  the 
woods  in  various  directions,  and  had  trampled  and 
eaten  bare  the  land  near  the  springs.  At  Knob 
Licks,  it  is  said  that  hunters  once  saw  "over  a 
thousand  buffaloes,  elk,  bears,  and  deer,  with 
many  wild  turkeys  scattered  among  them,  all  quite 
restless,  some  playing,  and  others  busily  employed 
in  licking  the  earth.  At  length  they  took  flight 
and  bounded  away,  all  in  one  direction,so  that  in  the 
brief  space  of  a  couple  of  minutes  not  an  animal  was 
to  be  seen." 


ALONE  IN  THE  WILDERNESS  95 

There  were  no  permanent  Indian  settlements  in 
Kentucky.  Various  tribes  claimed  it  and  fought 
with  each  other  for  it,  but  it  was  left  open  as  a 
common  hunting-ground.  Daniel  caught  glimpses 
of  many  red  men,  usually  Chickasaws,  Cherokees, 
and  Shawnees,  as  he  lurked  in  hiding.  His  joy  in 
outwitting  them  was  great.  Once,  when  he  was 
creeping  along  the  banks  of  the  Kentucky  River, 
he  espied  an  Indian  fishing  from  a  fallen  tree-trunk. 
Fearing  that  the  savage  might  report  his  presence, 
Boone  shot  him,  or  so  we  suppose,  for,  as  Daniel 
significantly  told  his  family  later,  "While  I  was 
looking  at  the  fellow,  he  tumbled  into  the  river, 
and  I  saw  him  no  more !" 

When  Boone  was  once  wandering  along  Dick's 
River,  he  was  quite  unexpectedly  surrounded  by 
Indians.  The  river  offered  him  the  only  means  of 
escape,  yet  the  bank  descended  abruptly  sixty  feet 
to  the  water  below.  Rather  than  surrender,  he 
leaped  the  sixty  feet,  landed  in  the  top  of  a  maple 
tree,  sped  along  the  overhanging  bank,  plunged 
into  the  river,  and  swam  in  safety  to  the  other  side. 

A  band  of  forty  expert  hunters  from  the  New 
River  and  Holston  valleys,  known  as  the  "Long 
Hunters"  (because  of  their  long  absence  from 
home)  were  among  those  who  fared  westward  about 
this  time,  and  they  told  an  amusing  story  of  Daniel. 


96  DANIEL  BOONE 

When  going  into  camp  one  night,  they  said,  they 
heard  a  strange  noise  in  the  forest.  The  leader 
ordered  all  to  be  silent,  and  he  himself  crept  along 
as  stealthily  as  possible,  under  cover  of  the  trees, 
toward  the  sound.  He  was  much  astonished  to 
come  upon  "a  man,  bare-headed,  stretched  flat 
upon  his  back  on  a  deerskin  spread  on  the  ground, 
singing  merrily  at  the  top  of  his  voice."  It  was 
Daniel  Boone !  Thus,  in  spite  of  dangers,  did  he 
amuse  himself  now  and  then  during  Squire's 
absence. 

On  the  27th  of  July,  Squire  returned,  riding  one 
horse  and  leading  another  heavily  laden  with  the 
necessary  supplies.  According  to  agreement,  they 
met  at  their  old  camp,  where  Squire  was  indeed 
thankful  to  find  Daniel  alive  and  well.  He  brought 
him  good  news  and  affectionate  messages  from  the 
family,  which  must  have  seemed  very  precious  to 
the  lone  hunter,  and  told  him  of  the  neat  sum  which 
their  furs  had  brought  at  market.  Altogether, 
life  seemed  auspicious  on  that  July  day. 

They  began  their  hunting  at  once,  and,  un- 
molested, their  stores  grew  apace.  In  October, 
Squire  again  returned  to  the  Yadkin  Valley  on 
business,  and  Daniel  spent  two  solitary  months  in 
the  wilderness.  By  the  New  Year,  Squire  was 
back  again,  and  together  they  joined  the  "Long 


ALONE  IN  THE  WILDERNESS  97 

Hunters"  for  a  season.  They  moved  their  camp 
from  the  Kentucky  River  to  the  Cumberland,  and 
explored  the  region  between  the  Cumberland  and 
Green  rivers.  Here  the  band  amused  themselves 
by  naming  rivers  and  hills  for  members  of  the  party, 
as  any  one  will  readily  infer  if  he  examines  the 
present  map  of  Kentucky.  The  uneventful  winter 
was  pleasant  and  profitable. 

When  March  came,  they  decided  to  go  home. 
Daniel's  happiness  was  great.  He  had  been  away 
from  the  settlements  two  years,  *^  during  which  time 
he  had  tasted  neither  bread  nor  salt,  nor  had  he 
seen  any  other  human  being  than  his  traveling 
companions  and  Indians."  They  had  a  store  of 
fine  furs,  which  would  settle  their  debts,  and  with 
clear  consciences  they  could  bring  their  families 
later  to  Kentucky.  The  "air  castles"  they  built 
were  exceedingly  primitive,  but  to  these  backwoods- 
men they  represented  happiness  and  a  life  more 
free  and  prosperous.  The  "Long  Hunters"  were 
sorry  to  part  with  their  comrades,  especially  with 
Daniel,  who,  although  silent  by  nature,  was  always 
a  wise  and  sympathetic  friend.  The  brothers 
swung  into  their  saddles,  turned  down  the  Warriors' 
Path,  and  wound  their  way  again  through  Cumber- 
land Gap  into  Powell's  Valley. 

There,  alas,     their  dreams   vanished !     Certain 


98  DANIEL  BOONE 

northern  Indians  on  the  warpath,  who  had  been 
raiding  Cherokee  and  Catawba  villages  as  well  as 
white  settlements,  fell  upon  them  and  robbed  them 
of  everything,  leaving  them  absolutely  destitute. 
Daniel's  experience  and  precious  knowledge  of 
Kentucky,  however,  could  not  be  stolen.  After 
this  harsh  and  unexpected  treatment,  they  went  on 
empty-handed  toward  home.  There  was  nothing 
else  to  do. 

Forlorn  and  poor,  and  hating  Indians  more  bit- 
terly than  ever,  Daniel  came  rather  dejectedly  into 
the  Yadkin  Valley,  but  he  was  a  hero  nevertheless 
—  a  hero  to  his  wife  and  small  sons  and  daughters, 
as  weU  as  to  his  many  friends  whose  future  in  a 
large  measure  depended  on  his  knowledge  of  the 
land  beyond  the  mountains. 

*'I  returned,"  as  he  himself  said  later,  ^'with  a 
determination  to  bring  them  as  soon  as  possible, 
even  at  the  risk  of  my  life  and  fortune,  to  live  in 
Kentucky,  which  I  esteemed  a  second  paradise." 


CHAPTER  XI 
The  Hero  of  the  Southwest 

News  of  Boone's  return  and  misfortune  spread 
from  cabin  to  cabin  like  a  flame  in  the  grass.  As 
soon  as  they  could  spare  a  moment,  friends  came 
to  hear  the  sorry  details  and  to  sympathize.  But 
Daniel's  interest  in  his  new-found  paradise  was  so 
much  greater  than  his  depression,  that  they  spent 
long  hours  listening  to  his  wonderful  stories. 

It  was  a  beautiful  land  of  promise,  he  told  them, 
and  he  knew,  for  he  had  seen  it  in  all  winds  and 
weathers  —  when  the  sun  was  warm  and  high, 
when  the  rivers  rushed  and  roared  after  the  spring 
and  autumn  rains,  when  the  occasional  snowstorm 
came  and  dropped  a  thin,  white  mantle  over  the 
wilderness.  To  the  delight  of  the  farmers,  he 
described  Kentucky's  soil  as  being  so  fertile  that 
almost  anywhere  they  might  have  a  good  garden 
or  meadow  without  dressing  and  without  water, 
as  showers  were  frequent.  He  was  sure  that  in 
some  places  the  land  would  be  too  rich  for  wheat 
until  after  it  had  been  cultivated  for  a  few  years, 
but  he  believed  that  turnips  and  potatoes  would 

99 


lOO  DANIEL  BOONE 

grow  in  abundance,  and  small  grain  flourish  in  the 
poorer  land.  The  hunters  delighted  in  his  tales 
of  game  —  of  deer  and  elk  and  great  herds  of  buf- 
faloes, each  one  weighing  from  five  hundred  to  a 
thousand  pounds.  They  meant  good  beef,  and  their 
hides,  good  leather.  Was  there  any  wonder  that 
he  determined  to  return  as  soon  as  possible  to  such 
a  favored  country  ? 

He  inspired  great  enthusiasm  in  his  hearers,  and 
many  wished  to  go  with  him.  Both  Daniel  and 
his  neighbors  probably  knew  of  the  proclamation 
which  the  king  had  sent  out  in  1763,  after  the  defeat 
of  the  French,  forbidding  his  ^'loving  subjects" 
to  settle  west  of  the  mountains.  Very  likely  the 
king  was  selfish,  wanting  to  keep  the  wilderness 
fur-trade  for  London  merchants,  or  fearing  that  he 
might  lose  control  of  the  settlers  if  they  moved 
farther  from  the  coast.  Perhaps  he  desired  to 
assure  peace  to  the  borderers  by  promising  the 
Indians  all  rights  for  a  time  to  western  lands.  The 
colonists,  however,  paid  little  heed  to  him;  they 
needed  the  West  and  they  intended  to  have  it. 

Various  explorers,  beginning  with  early  French- 
men and  fur-traders,  had  casually  revealed  the 
riches  of  this  uncultivated  country,  so  that  Daniel 
Boone  was  not  the  first  to  make  western  settlement 
appear  desirable.     Even  he  had  been  piloted  into 


THE  HERO  OF  THE  SOUTHWEST    loi 

Kentucky  by  his  genial  friend  John  Finley,  but 
Boone  was  the  first  to  have  an  extensive  knowledge 
of  the  land  beyond  the  frontiers.  He  alone  was 
an  authority. 

Daniel  told  his  friends  that  he  planned  to  return 
to  Kentucky  as  soon  as  he  could  arrange  his  affairs. 
Yet  again  he  was  delayed,  and  two  years  and  a  half 
slipped  by  before  he  could  leave  the  Yadkin  Valley. 
Being  a  poor  man,  it  was  necessary  for  him  to  sell 
his  farm  and  surplus  possessions  in  order  that  he 
might  have  the  money  they  would  bring  for  the 
equipment  for  his  journey.  At  that  time  it  was 
particularly  difficult  to  dispose  of  property.  The 
population  along  the  Atlantic  coast  had  been 
increasing  so  rapidly  that  settlements,  even  on 
former  borders,  were  becoming  crowded,  and 
game  was  fast  disappearing.  Real  estate  was 
undesirable  and  consequently  cheap.  The  settlers 
were  also  discontented  with  the  illegal  and  excessive 
demands  of  tax-collectors.  When  the  power  of 
France  in  the  West  was  broken,  and  the  wilderness 
was  no  longer  feared,  borderers  were  glad  to  leave 
their  old  homes  in  this  region  for  a  freer  life  along 
the  western  streams  —  Watauga,  Clinch,  Powell, 
French,  Broad,  Holston,  and  Nolichucky,  all 
flowing  into  the  Tennessee ;  the  Monongahela, 
and  other  tributaries  of  the  Ohio.     So  Daniel  had 


I02  DANIEL  BOONE 

diflficulty  in  finding  some  one  who  wanted  to  buy 
his  property  in  North  CaroHna.  But  eventually 
he  sold  it,  and,  as  it  had  been  cultivated  for  a  num- 
ber of  years,  it  should  have  brought  a  good  sum  for 
those  times.  During  the  two  years  and  a  half  of 
waiting,  he  farmed  and  hunted,  moved  his  family  to 
live  for  a  time  in  the  Watauga  Valley,  and  traveled 
at  least  twice  to  Kentucky.  On  the  second  trip  he 
probably  selected  the  site  for  his  new  home. 

The  spring  and  summer  of  1773  were  spent  in 
preparation,  and  at  length  in  September  everything 
for  the  all-important  move  was  ready.  Various 
relatives  from  the  Bryan  settlement  and  neighbors 
of  the  Yadkin  Valley  had  decided  to  cast  in  their 
lot  with  Boone.  The  Yadkin  settlers  had  sold  their 
farms,  and,  like  Daniel,  were  homeless,  their  shelter 
for  weeks  to  be  the  open  air  by  day,  and  skins,  cloth, 
or  bedding  hung  between  upright  poles,  by  night. 
The  Bryan  band  numbered  forty  men  who  planned 
to  precede  their  families  and  so  have  cabins  ready 
for  them  in  the  wilderness.  Rebecca  Boone  and 
the  children,  and  the  other  Yadkin  families,  how- 
ever, were  to  go  at  once.  Border  women  were  as 
courageous  as  their  pioneer  husbands,  and  honor 
should  be  paid  them  equally.  They  feared  nothing, 
and  were  ready  for  the  hardships  of  such  a  journey. 
They  would  have  to  travel  on  foot  or  horseback  over 


THE  HERO  OF  THE  SOUTHWEST         103 

narrow,  precipitous  trails,  and  sleep  in  the  open  in 
all  weathers,  perhaps  sometimes  hungry,  if  game 
was  scarce.  Yet  without  doubt  hope  shone  in 
Rebecca  Boone's  black  eyes  as  she  mounted  her 
horse  and  took  in  her  arms  the  Boone  baby,  John, 
born  that  year  and  probably  the  youngest  pioneer 
to  set  off  for  the  wilderness. 

If  the  other  Yadkin  families  were  as  large  as 
Daniel's,  the  caravan  must  have  made  an  imposing 
appearance,  even  before  the  Bryans  joined  them  in 
Powell's  Valley.  James  Boone  was  then  a  fine, 
sturdy  youth  of  sixteen  ;i  Israel  was  fourteen.  The 
six  other  children  were  younger  —  Susannah,  thir- 
teen ;  Jemima,  eleven ;  Lavinia,  seven ;  Rebecca, 
five;  Daniel  Morgan,  four ;  and  baby  John.  Pack- 
horses  carried  their  provisions,  clothing,  and  other 
necessities,  while  a  few  young  cattle  and  swine,  and 
a  number  of  cows  to  give  milk  for  the  children, 
were  to  be  driven  along  as  a  nucleus  for  Boone's 
herd  in  the  wilderness. 

Mingled  feelings  moved  the  friends  left  behind  on 
September  25,  as  the  band  of  pilgrims  passed  out 
of  the  valley  toward  their  uncertain  future.  Good 
neighbors  were  gone  forever,  and  the  region  would 
be  poorer  for  want  of  Daniel  and  Rebecca  Boone. 
Yet  who  would  desire  to  keep  them  from  a  life  more 
1  Authority,  Draper  manuscript  and  R.  G.  Thwaites. 


I04  DANIEL  BOONE 

prosperous  ?  Young  and  old  wished  them  well  and 
watched  the  train  disappear,  even  to  the  whisk  of  the 
last  horse's  tail,  at  a  bend  in  the  road.  Probably 
little  work  was  done  that  day  in  the  valley. 

Daniel  planned  to  follow  his  old  trail  from  North 
Carolina  to  Kentucky,  crossing  three  ranges  of 
mountains  and  passing  out  into  the  promised  land 
by  way  of  Cumberland  Gap.  This  route  lay 
through  Powell's  Valley,  where  they  went  into 
camp  to  await  five  more  families  and  the  forty  men 
from  the  Bryan  settlement  who  were  to  join  them. 
As  they  all  were  to  be  well  armed,  this  reinforcement 
gave  Boone  added  confidence.  The  days  passed 
quietly  with  hunting  and  the  necessary  camp- 
keeping,  and  every  night  the  cattle  were  made 
secure  in  a  meadow,  the  horses  hobbled  and  belled, 
and  the  family  slept  comfortably  in  their  woodland 
beds. 

While  Boone  was  waiting  in  camp  for  the  other 
settlers,  he  asked  his  son  James  to  ride  across  the 
country  with  two  men  and  pack-horses  to  announce 
their  arrival  to  a  settler,  WilUam  Russell,  on  Clinch 
River,  and  to  purchase  there  flour  and  farming 
tools.  As  Russell's  place  was  not  far  distant, 
Daniel  believed  that  the  business  could  be  accom- 
plished in  a  single  day.  James  set  off,  and  bought 
the  supplies  as  his  father  had  directed.     As  he  was 


THE  HERO  OF  THE  SOUTHWEST        105 

returning  with  Russell's  son  Henry,  a  lad  of  seven- 
teen, two  of  Russell's  negro  slaves,  and  two  or  three 
white  workers,  he  lost  the  trail  when  only  three 
miles  from  Boone's  camp,  and  remained  there  for 
the  night.     The  camp  fire  attracted  a  band  of 
Shawnees  who  were  homeward  bound   after   an 
attack  upon  their  enemies,  the  Cherokees,  on  the 
Little  Tennessee  River,  and,  in  spite  of  promises 
and  treaties,  they  stealthily  surrounded  the  sleepers 
to  await  the  dawn.     When  dayUght  broke,  they  fell 
upon  them  with  tomahawk  and  rifle,  and  bore  away 
their  scalps.     The  attack  was  so  sudden  that  resist- 
ance was  impossible.     Only  two  of  the  seven,    a 
Clinch  River  settler  and  a  negro  slave,  escaped. 
The  others  — James  Boone  among  them  — were 

left  dead. 

The  two  fleeing  survivors  staggered  into  Boone's 
camp,  and  there  told  Daniel  and  Rebecca  of  the 
murder  of  their  firstborn.  The  sorrow  and  despair 
of  that  chill  October  morning  can  hardly  be  ex- 
pressed in  words.  The  great-hearted  border  women 
tried  to  console  the  grieving  mother,  and  a  handful 
of  men  went  forward  quietly  to  the  scene  of  the 
massacre  with  Boone,  who  himself  was  stern  and 
silent  as  never  before. 

In  his  last  camp  lay  the  youthful  James,  and 
Daniel  with  all  tenderness  stooped  and  lifted  the 


io6  DANIEL  BOONE 

form  of  his  boy,  once  so  attractive  and  now  so 
mangled.  The  ground  was  opened,  and  after  a 
few  words  of  prayer,  the  bodies  of  James  and  his 
comrades  were  intrusted  to  the  forest.  Boone 
would  surely  have  been  touched  if  he  could  have 
known,  as  he  turned  away  from  those  rude  graves, 
that  one  hundred  and  fifty  years  later  loyal  Amer- 
icans would  place  a  tablet  there,^  reading : 

Near  this  spot 

James  Boone 

aged  1 8  yrs.^ 

Eldest  son  of  Daniel  Boone 

was  killed  by  Indians 

October  lo,  1773 


Erected  by  the  Virginia 
D.  A.  R. 

In  silence  the  little  train  turned  back  toward  the 
camp,  brooding  on  the  calamity  and  crime.  Boone, 
for  one,  was  in  a  merciless  mood  and  vowed  that 
these  savages,  forever  menacing  white  men,  should 
be  taught  their  lesson. 

Meanwhile,  the  forty  settlers  from  Powell's 
Valley  and  the  Valley  of  Virginia  had  arrived  in 

^  Between  Ewing  and  Wheeler's  Station  in  Lee  County,  Virginia. 
*  Authority,  John  Filson. 


THE  HERO  OF  THE  SOUTHWEST         107 

good  spirits,  only  to  have  their  ardor  at  once 
dampened  by  the  terrible  news.  The  situation  was 
discussed  at  length.  Boone,  always  invincible, 
was  ready  to  go  forward  at  once,  but  the  others 
beheved  that  this  onslaught  was  merely  the  begin- 
ning of  a  general  Indian  uprising.  To  proceed  thus 
into  the  very  jaws  of  death  would  be  foolhardy. 
They  advised  waiting  until  spring,  when,  if  there 
were  no  more  Indian  "signs,"  the  journey  might  be 
again  undertaken.  Boone  argued  and  urged,  for, 
having  spent  his  all  for  this  one  venture,  he  longed 
to  proceed.  But  the  others  were  not  to  be  moved, 
and,  as  time  proved,  their  opinion  was  wiser  than 
Boone's. 

They  packed  up  and  retraced  their  way  forty 
miles  to  the  settlement  on  CHnch  River.  Boone  and 
his  family,  no  longer  having  a  home  on  the  Yadkin, 
would  not  return  to  the  old  valley,  but  went  to  live 
in  a  deserted  cabin  on  the  farm  belonging  to  Cap- 
tain David  Gass,  situated  seven  or  eight  miles  from 
Russell's  on  the  Clinch.  News  of  their  misfortune 
spread  through  the  region  until,  as  a  letter  of  the 
time  reads,  "the  murder  of  Russell's,  Boone's  and 
Drake's  sons  is  in  every  one's  mouth." 

The  following  winter  was  sad  and  hard.  Dam'el 
could  rely  only  on  his  cattle  and  chance  game  for 
his  family's  support,  and  by  June  he  was  thankful 


io8  DANIEL  BOONE 

enough  to  be  able  to  accept  a  sudden  commission 
with  promise  of  good  pay  from  Governor  Dunmore 
of  Virginia. 

Intelligence  and  prosperity  had  been  growing 
among  England's  colonists  living  between  the 
Atlantic  coast  and  the  Alleghanies,  and  also  a  de- 
termination to  have  either  the  rights,  which  the 
king  had  promised  them  by  charter,  or  their  inde- 
pendence. Hostilities,  which  culminated  in  the 
Revolution  and  made  them  free,  had  already  begun. 
While  this  warfare  was  developing,  their  savage 
enemies  to  the  west  felt  their  growing  power  and 
their  desire  for  the  rich  Mississippi  Valley,  and 
once  more  Indian  hatred  flamed  along  their  fron- 
tiers. When  thirteen  relatives  of  the  Mingo  chief- 
tain, Logan,  long  a  friend  to  white  men,  were 
wantonly  murdered  by  a  band  of  lawless  borderers, 
the  ire  of  the  Indians  broke  into  open  war.  The 
Mingos  hastened  runners  to  bear  the  war-pipe  in 
every  direction ;  defiant  messages  were  sent  to  the 
frontiersmen ;  and  in  a  few  days  the  war,  known  as 
Lord  Dunmore's  War,  was  raging  on  the  borders  — 
the  last  American  war  in  which  American  soldiers 
fought  under  the  flag  of  England. 

Some  months  later  Logan,  with  thirteen  scalps 
in  his  hand,  said,  "Now  I  am  satisfied  for  the 
loss  of  my  relations  and  will  sit  still." 


THE  HERO  OF  THE  SOUTHWEST         109 

Troops  were  mustered  at  once,  and  Lord  'Dun- 
more,  remembering  a  party  of  surveyors  under 
Captain  John  Floyd,  at  work  somewhere  near  the 
Falls  of  the  Ohio,  who  would  now  be  in  great  danger, 
ordered  messengers  to  go  to  the  wilderness  and  bring 
them  back.  Colonel  William  Preston,  comman- 
dant of  the  Southwest  militia,  asked  Captain  Wil- 
liam Russell,  then  the  principal  man  in  the  Clinch 
Valley,  to  employ  ''two  faithful  woodsmen"  for 
the  purpose.  The  task  would  be  by  no  means  easy. 
It  would  require  unusual  courage  and  endurance 
and  a  knowledge  of  the  country,  as  the  whereabouts 
of  the  surveyors  was  unknown.  He  chose  Daniel 
Boone  and  Michael  Stoner.  Boone  alone  of  all 
the  colonists  knew  Kentucky. 

Late  in  June,  1774,  Boone  and  Stoner  left  the 
Clinch  Valley  and  made  all  haste  toward  Cumber- 
land Gap.  Within  ten  days  they  were  in  the  veiy 
heart  of  Kentucky  where  Harrodsburg  stands 
to-day.  There,  to  his  great  disappointment,  Boone 
found  James  Harrod  and  thirty-four  pioneers  laying 
off  a  town.  With  a  sudden  tugging  at  his  heart, 
he  realized  that  now  the  settlement  which  he 
planned  could  not  be  the  first  in  Kentucky.  The 
Shawnee  attack  of  the  year  before  had  not  only  cost 
him  his  son  but  this  cherished  plan  as  well.  Boone 
accepted  his  disappointment,  and  even  registered 


no  DANIEL  BOONE 

as  a  settler,  hastily  putting  up  a  small  cabin  for  the 
future.  Harrod  was  grateful  for  the  timely  warn- 
ing, and  he  and  his  party  made  their  way  home 
safely.  They  later  returned  to  make  their  settle- 
ment permanent,  just  a  month  before  Boone 
founded  his  own  historic  colony. 

Boone  and  S toner  continued  their  mission  to  the 
Falls  of  the  Ohio,  the  present  site  of  Louisville, 
and  there  they  searched  out  Captain  Floyd's  band 
of  surveyors  and  other  parties,  and  told  them  of  the 
peril.  A  brief  rest  and  a  little  hunting,  and  then 
the  messengers  hurried  back  to  the  Clinch,  Just 
two  months  from  the  time  of  their  departure  Boone 
was  again  with  his  family,  having  traveled  eight 
hundred  miles  through  the  unbroken  forest,  en- 
countered numberless  difficulties  and  dangers,  and 
accomplished  his  work.  All  but  two  of  the  sur- 
veyors had  been  saved. 

During  his  absence.  Lord  Dunmore  had  ordered 
out  nearly  three  thousand  backwoodsmen  against 
the  Shawnees  from  beyond  the  Ohio.  In  those 
days,  almost  every  man  was  obliged  to  be  a  soldier. 
Even  farming  was  often  carried  on  under  arms,  a 
sentinel  keeping  guard  over  the  stacked  rifles  of  the 
workers  in  the  field.  At  a  word  from  the  watch- 
man, they  all  could  rush  to  their  guns  and  be  ready 
for  combat  at  a  moment's  notice.     Many  of  Boone's 


THE  HERO  OF  THE  SOUTHWEST         iii 

friends  of  the  Clinch  region  had  left  for  the  cam- 
paign, Captain  Russell  among  them,  and  Boone  at 
once  set  off  with  a  few  recruits,  whom  he  had  been 
asked  to  raise,  to  overtake  them  and  to  help  to 
bring  an  end  to  Indian  outrages.  Captain  John 
Floyd  wrote  Colonel  Preston,  on  August  28  of  that 
year,  as  follows : 

''You  will  hear  of  Mr.  Boone's  return,  &  desire 
of  going  out.  ...  1  may  let  Boone  join  me  and 
try.  Captain  Bledsoe  says  Boone  has  more  interest 
[influence]  than  any  man  now  disengaged ;  &  you 
know  what  Boone  has  done  for  me  by  your  kind 
instructions,  for  which  reason  1  love  the  man." 

The  departure  of  so  many  borderers,  however, 
had  left  the  frontiers  of  the  Southwest  with  little 
protection,  and  Boone  was  ordered  to  return,  as  liis 
service  was  needed  in  the  valley  of  the  Clinch. 

The  settlers  were  huddled  together  in  their  little 
forts,  garrisoned  by  men  not  serving  in  the  militia 
and  by  boys,  who  in  those  days  were  taught  to 
be  fort  soldiers,  with  a  porthole  assigned  to  each 
in  time  of  attack.  The  region  appeared  deserted 
save  for  fields  of  grain  and  the  live  stock  running 
loose  on  the  ranges.  Whenever  there  came  a  lull  in 
hostihties,  the  settlers  stole  from  their  strongholds 
to  give  what  care  they  could  to  their  abandoned 
farms.     But  during  their  absence,  wolves  and  bears 


112  DANIEL  BOONE 

often  devoured  their  sheep  and  hogs,  and  squirrels 
and  raccoons  ate  their  corn.  Thus  many  famihes, 
who  had  worked  hard  during  spring  and  summer 
to  make  their  farms  successful,  suddenly  found  their 
labor  all  for  naught. 

Boone  was  made  lieutenant,  and  assigned  Moore's 
Fort  with  twenty  men,  which  command  he  assumed 
immediately.  He  kept  his  little  garrison  constantly 
on  the  move,  hastening  at  once  to  the  rehef  of  any 
neighborhood  stronghold  which  was  attacked  and 
in  distress.  Records  say  that  he  was  by  far  the 
most  active  commander  in  the  valley.  He  and  his 
men  traced  marauding  Indians  and  shot  them, 
made  frequent  sallies  among  the  savages,  and  did 
their  best  to  hold  the  Southwest  frontier.  At  one 
time  he  secured  a  war-club  which  he  believed  the 
Cherokees  had  left,  and  sent  it  to  Major  Campbell. 
A  war-club  found  beside  a  murdered  person  was  one 
of  the  Indian  "signs"  of  hostility.  The  red  men 
also  used  the  war-club  in  voting  for  the  life  or  death 
of  a  captive.  Those  who  wished  to  kill  him,  struck 
the  club  on  the  council-house  floor,  while  those 
who  desired  to  let  the  man  live,  passed  on  the  club 
in  silence.  Late  in  September,  Major  Campbell 
wrote  Colonel  Preston,  "Mr.  Boone  is  very  diligent 
at  Castle- Woods  and  keeps  up  good  Orders." 

All  this  activity  made  him  a  familiar  figure  in  the 


THE  HERO  OF  THE  SOUTHWEST         113 

valley'as  he  went  about  fulfilling  his  military  duties, 
''dressed  in  deerskin  colored  black,  and  his  hair 
plaited  and  clubbed  up."  His  devotion  and  tireless 
efforts  endeared  him  to  the  settlers,  and  Major 
Campbell  said,  ''I  am  well  informed  he  is  a  very 
popular  Officer  where  he  is  known."  Gladly  and 
simply  he  gave  his  service,  and  thought  little  of 
material  rewards;  but  the  borderers  felt  that  he 
should  have  the  recompense  which  he  so  well 
deserved. 

At  the  wish  of  his  many  friends,  Boone  was 
appointed  captain  of  the  three  lower  forts,  and 
accepted  the  honor  modestly,  no  doubt  greatly 
pleased  by  the  confidence  of  his  fellow-settlers. 
Already  his  exploits  were  the  talk  of  the  towns  on 
the  coast  as  well  as  on  the  borders,  and  this  compli- 
ment and  his  continued  successes  increased  his 
fame  until  no  frontiersman  was  as  well  known 
throughout  the  country  as  Daniel  Boone. 

While  he  was  holding  the  Indians  at  bay  in  the 
Southwest,  his  compatriots  of  the  border  and  the 
Army  of  Virginia  were  fighting  the  Ohio  Indians  led 
by  Logan,  the  Mingo  chief,  and  the  famous 
Shawnee  giant.  Cornstalk.  Their  fighting  cul- 
minated in  the  battle  of  Point  Pleasant,  West 
Virginia,  on  the  loth  of  October.  Cornstalk,  with 
a  thousand  picked  warriors,  fell  upon  the  eleven 
I 


114  DANIEL  BOONE 

hundred  men  of  the  Southwest,  and,  after  one  of 
the  bloodiest  battles  in  our  history,  suffered  over- 
whelming defeat.  With  this  victory  for  the  colo- 
nists, the  Shawnees  and  the  Cherokees  were  humbled, 
and,  save  for  a  few  alarms  which  Boone  dispelled, 
Lord  Dunmore's  War  was  ended. 

On  November  20,  1774,  the  hero  of  Clinch  Valley 
received  an  honorable  discharge  after  three  months 
of  warfare  with  the  Indians  by  day  and  night.  He 
had  suffered  privations  and  hardship  in  forts  and 
forests,  and  many  a  time  his  life  had  hung  in  the 
balance.  To  those  who  may  have  hailed  him  with 
words  of  praise  as  he  rode  home,  he  probably 
nodded  humbly,  glad  of  any  worthy  achievement, 
yet  feeling  that  risk  and  sacrifice  were  merely  part 
of  his  duty. 

The  Thanksgiving  and  Christmas  seasons  were 
celebrated  with  a  truly  grateful  spirit  in  the  cabin 
on  the  Clinch.  And  then  Captain  Daniel  Boone 
went  hunting ! 


CHAPTER  XII 

Making  the  Wilderness  Road 

A  PHILOSOPHER  once  said,  *'If  a  man  can  write  a 
better  book  or  make  a  better  mousetrap  than  his 
neighbor,  although  he  build  his  house  in  the  woods, 
the  world  will  make  a  beaten  track  to  his  door." 

This  was  true  of  Daniel  Boone.  However  much 
he  might  prefer  solitude  and  the  woods  to  society, 
his  ability  and  knowledge  of  Kentucky  were  bound 
to  be  needed  and  sought. 

Colonel  Richard  Henderson  was  the  most 
important  man  to  search  out  Boone.  He  was  an 
enterprising  North  CaroUna  lawyer  of  thirty-m'ne, 
who  for  some  time  had  been  turning  over  in  his 
mind  Boone's  reports  of  the  forest  land  beyond  the 
mountains.  He  had  been  deprived  of  his  judgeship 
by  the  political  dissensions  of  the  day,  and  had 
suffered  money  losses ;  to  him  the  West  seemed  to 
offer  a  fortune  to  any  one  bold  enough  to  seize  upon 
it. 

Relying  entirely  on  Boone's  information,  he  de- 
cided to  estabUsh  a  colony  in  Kentucky  of  which  he 
should  be  the  proprietor,  as  Penn  had  been  in 

IIS 


Ii6  DANIEL  BOONE 

Pennsylvania,  and  the  sole  one  to  sell  titles  to 
settlers.  Nine  citizens  of  North  CaroKna  were 
found  willing  to  risk  money  in  the  venture,  and 
associated  themselves  with  Henderson. 

Great  secrecy  was  maintained,  as  they  laid  their 
plans,  and,  although  the  settlers  surmised  that 
Daniel  Boone  had  something  ''up  his  sleeve,'* 
nothing  definite  was  known  for  weeks.  He  was 
seen  to  go  freely  back  and  forth  between  ''Snoddy's 
on  the  Clinch,"  the  stockaded  house  of  his  friend 
John  Snoddy,  where  he  was  staying,  and  the  game 
lands  of  the  Cherokees ;  and  at  times  two  strangers 
were  noticed  with  him.  It  was  rumored  that  they 
were  holding  powwows  with  the  red  men.  Then 
a  train  of  ten  wagons,  filled  with  clothing,  gay 
cloth,  gaudy  ornaments,  arms,  and  the  utensils 
of  civilization,  wound  its  way  into  the  Watauga 
Valley,  and  six  Indian  chiefs  came  out  of  the  forest 
and  looked  over  the  things. 

What  did  it  all  mean  ? 

On  Christmas  Day,  1774,  the  secret  was  pub- 
lished. ''Richard  Henderson  for  himself  and  Com- 
pany" advertised  for  "settlers  for  Kentucky  lands 
about  to  be  purchased."  The  Transylvania  Com- 
pany had  been  formed,  it  appeared,  and  they 
purposed  founding  a  western  commonwealth  as 
soon  as  they  could  buy  territory  from  the  Cherokees, 


MAKING  THE  WILDERNESS  ROAD         117 

the  tribe  holding  the  way  between  Virginia  and 
the  Carolinas  and  Kentucky.  Their  adviser  and 
guide  in  these  matters  was  Daniel  Boone.  He  had 
been  asked  to  negotiate  with  the  Indians,  to  define 
the  boundaries  of  the  purchase,  and  to  assemble  the 
red  men  at  a  gathering  in  the  Watauga  Valley  in 
the  spring,  where  the  transaction  should  be  made 
and  treaties  signed.  Indian  runners  were  aheady 
hastening  with  the  news  among  their  settlements, 
at  the  command  of  their  chief,  Oconostota. 

These  matters,  however,  were  insignificant  pre- 
liminaries for  Boone.  His  great  work  was  yet  to 
be  done.  He  was  the  one  chosen  to  cut  a  road  for 
this  company  through  the  wilderness.  He  was  the 
one  asked  to  select  a  site  for  the  new  community 
in  Kentucky. 

The  news  was  received  with  intense  interest. 
Some  settlers,  however,  condemned  the  project, 
asking  if  ''Dick  Henderson  had  lost  his  head.'' 
They  all  believed  that  the  victory  of  Point  Pleasant 
and  the  ensuing  treaties  had  quieted  the  Indians 
for  a  time,  and  that  the  moment  might  be  auspicious 
for  Boone  to  carry  out  his  long-cherished  plan. 

The  Royal  Governors  of  Virginia  and  North 
Carolina  knew  that  such  a  settlement  in  the  West 
would  be  contrary  to  the  wishes  of  the  Crown, 
proclaimed  in   1763.     Governor  Dunmore   called 


ii8  DANIEL  BOONE 

Henderson's  association  an  "infamous  Company 
of  Land  Pyrates"  ;  and  Governor  Martin  of  North 
Carolina  denounced  the  scheme  as  "a  lawless 
undertaking,"  and  threatened  the  Transylvania 
Company  "with  the  pain  of  His  Majesty's  dis- 
pleasure and  the  most  rigorous  penalties  of  the 
law."  Boone  and  his  associates,  nevertheless, 
continued  their  plans.  Once  in  the  West,  they 
knew  that  they  would  be  too  far  away  for  England's 
officials  to  trouble  them. 

Boone  chose  his  road-makers,  "thirty  guns"  in 
all,  each  an  enterprising  backwoodsman  and  trained 
Indian  fighter.  They  gladly  accepted  the  work,  as 
the  terms  for  settlement  in  Kentucky,  oft'ered  by  the 
Transylvania  Company,  were  generous.  Squire 
Boone,  Michael  Stoner,  and  Boone's  friends,  Richard 
Calloway  and  David  Gass,  were  among  the  pioneers. 

While  they  were  gathering  at  Long  Island,  a 
picturesque  spot  in  the  Holston  River,  preparations 
were  being  made  at  Sycamore  Shoals  on  the 
Watauga  River  for  the  reception  of  the  Indians. 
There  in  the  fertile  valley,  between  the  river  and 
the  foothills,  twelve  hundred  Cherokees,  who  had 
been  assembled  by  Boone,  pitched  their  tents  and 
wigwams,  and  made  ready  for  the  great  council  at 
which  they  expected  to  sell  the  territory  which 
they  claimed  as  ancestral  hunting-ground. 


MAKING  THE  WILDERNESS  ROAD        119 

Early  in  March  the  conference  was  opened  with 
elaborate  ceremony.  Colonel  Henderson  and  Daniel 
Boone,  Nathaniel  Hart,  and  John  Luttrell  repre- 
sented the  Transylvania  Company ;  the  spokesmen 
for  the  Indians  were  the  lean  and  withered  chiefs, 
Oconostota  and  Atta-Kulla-Kulla,  and  the  warriors, 
Savanooko  and  Dragging  Canoe.  After  days  of 
discussion  and  oration,  '^the  Great  Grant"  was 
signed. 

An  immense  tract,  comprising  more  than  half 
the  present  state  of  Kentucky  and  including  a  path 
thither  from  the  east  through  Powell's  Valley,  was 
deeded  to  Henderson  and  his  associates,  for  which 
they  gave  the  Cherokees  a  small  amount  of  British 
money  and  $50,000  worth  of  merchandise.  The 
goods  filled  a  large  cabin  and  made  a  pleasing 
appearance.  When  they  were  divided,  there  was 
some  grumbling.  One  red  man,  who  received  only  a 
shirt  as  his  sha,re,  said  that  it  was  foolishness  to 
sell  a  hunting-ground  which  would  bring  him  more 
money  in  a  single  day  than  the  value  of  such  a 
garment.  On  the  whole,  though,  the  transaction 
appears  to  have  been  carried  on  in  good  faith,  and 
certainly  the  great  feast,  to  which  the  Company 
treated  the  Indians  at  its  close,  was  a  gala  affair, 
bound  to  put  all  the  savages  present  in  a  good 
humor. 


I20  DANIEL  BOONE 

The  chiefs  could  not  promise  Boone  a  safe  journey 
for  his  pioneers.  They  said  :  "  A  black  cloud  hangs 
over  this  land  [meaning  the  enmity  of  the  Northern 
tribes  for  white  men  who  desired  to  own  Ken- 
tucky]. Warpaths  cross  it  from  north  to  south, 
and  settlers  will  surely  get  killed.  For  such  results, 
the  Cherokees  must  not  be  held  responsible." 

One  chieftain  said, ''  It  is  a  fine  land  we  sell  to  you, 
but  I  fear  you  will  find  it  hard  to  hold." 

Nevertheless,  Boone  left  Sycamore  Shoals  as  soon 
as  Henderson  could  spare  his  spokesman,  and  went 
directly  to  Long  Island,  where  the  roadmen  were 
waiting. 

On  March  lo,  1775,  the  band  was  ready.  The 
men,  all  mounted,  were  equipped  with  hatchets 
and  axes,  and  armed  for  hunting  rather  than  for 
fighting,  as  httle  trouble  with  Indians  was  antici- 
pated. Boone's  daughter  Susannah  (Mrs.  WilHam 
Hays)  accompanied  her  husband,  the  only  woman 
of  the  party,  save  one  colored  woman.  Pack  horses 
and  hunting-dogs  made  up  the  train.  FeHx 
Walker,  a  youth  of  the  number,  recorded  the 
experiences  of  this  historic  band  in  a  brief  auto- 
biography.    Of  their  departure,  he  wrote : 

''We  then,  by  general  consent,  put  ourselves 
under  the  management  and  control  of  Colonel 
Boone,  who  was  to  be  our  pilot  and  conductor 


MAKING  THE  WILDERNESS   ROAD        I2I 

through  the  wilderness,  to  the  promised  land.  Per- 
haps no  adventurers  since  the  days  of  Don  Quixote, 
or  before,  ever  felt  so  cheerful  and  elated  in  pros- 
pect. Every  heart  abounded  with  joy  and  excite- 
ment in  anticipating  the  new  things  we  could  see, 
and  the  romantic  scenes  through  which  we  must 
pass.  .  .  .  Under  the  influence  of  these  impres- 
sions we  went  on  our  way  rejoicing,  with  transport- 
ing views  of  our  success,  taking  our  leave  of  the 
civilized  world  for  a  season." 

Boone's  own  emotions,  as  he  swung  into  his  saddle 
and  took  his  place  at  the  head  of  the  band,  must 
have  run  high.  At  last  he  was  bound  for  the  land 
of  his  heart's  desire.  The  outlook  for  success  was 
bright  and  the  compensation  for  his  services  was 
good.  The  work,  for  which  he  had  been  uncon- 
sciously training  all  the  forty  years  of  his  active 
life,  was  now  at  hand.  Opportunity  and  power 
had  come.  Grateful  and  confident  he  led  away  — 
and  the  Wilderness  Road  was  begun!  Yet  even 
Boone,  in  his  brightest  dreams  and  visions  of  the 
West,  could  not  picture  the  importance  of  his 
undertaking. 

Boone  planned  to  chop  his  way  through  the 
forests  and  canebrakes,  to  cut  out  the  underbrush 
as  he  went  along  so  that  it  might  not  overgrow  the 
trail  during  the  summer,  and  to  blaze  the  distances 


122  DANIEL  BOONE 

on  mile- trees.  Thus  he  would  make  the  first 
regular  and  continuous  road  through  the  wilder- 
ness to  the  Kentucky  River.  He  and  his  men  pro- 
ceeded northward  at  once  for  Cumberland  Gap, 
marking  their  track  with  hatchets.  Having  crossed 
the  Chnch  and  Powell's  rivers,  they  came  down 
from  the  hills  into  that  wild  and  beautiful  defile  of 
the  Cumberland  Mountains  now  so  famous.  By 
this  time  the  Gap  was  familiar  ground  to  Boone. 
Wlien  they  had  rested  and  enjoyed  the  scene,  they 
passed  on  to  Rockcastle  River  where  they  en- 
camped, the  journey  thus  far  having  been  unevent- 
ful save  for  the  appearance  of  a  fine  bear  which  made 
them  an  excellent  supper.  Boone  had  laid  his 
course  along  the  hollows  of  the  hills,  avoiding  hard 
climbs  whenever  possible,  and  the  trip  up  to  this 
point  had  been  an  easy  one  for  men  accustomed  to 
severe  toil. 

The  next  twenty  miles  lay  through  a  country 
covered  with  dead  brush,  and  then  followed  thirty 
miles  of  thick  canebrakes  and  reed.  With  the 
greatest  difficulty  they  penetrated  this  region,  as 
no  progress  could  be  made  until  the  brush  and  cane 
had  been  chopped  or  burned  away  and  a  path 
opened.  It  was  slow  and  weary  work,  but  as  they 
emerged  from  this  tract  they  came  into  the  restful, 
open  lands  of  the  Kentucky  paradise. 


MAKING  THE  WILDERNESS  ROAD        123 

''As  the  cane  ceased,"  said  Felix  Walker,  remem- 
bering his  own  youthful  enthusiasm  of  the  moment, 
"we  began  to  discover  the  pleasing  and  rapturous 
appearance  of  the  plains.  A  new  sky  and  earth 
seemed  to  be  presented  to  our  view.  So  rich  a  soil 
we  had  never  seen  before,  covered  with  clover  in 
full  bloom.  The  woods  were  abounding  with  wild 
game  —  turkeys  so  numerous  that  it  might  be  said 
they  appeared  but  one  flock,  universally  scattered 
in  the  woods.  It  appeared  that  nature,  in  the 
profusion  of  her  bounty,  had  spread  a  feast  for  all 
that  lives,  both  for  the  animal  and  rational  world. 
A  sight  so  delightful  to  our  view  and  grateful  to  our 
feeHngs,  almost  inclined  us,  in  imitation  of  Colum- 
bus, in  transport  to  kiss  the  soil  of  Kentucky,  even 
as  Columbus  hailed  and  saluted  the  sand  on  his 
first  setting  his  foot  on  the  shores  of  America." 

On  the  night  of  March  25,  they  encamped  by  a 
stream  known  as  Silver  Creek,  in  the  present  Madi- 
son County,  and  only  fifteen  miles  from  the  site 
which  Boone  had  previously  decided  with  Hen- 
derson to  choose  for  the  colony.  They  retired  in 
gQod  spirits  and  without  fears  ;  the  hardest  of  their 
road-making  was  passed,  and  their  goal  was  near. 
Unfortunately,  Boone  posted  no  sentinels  that 
night.  A  guard  against  savages  seemed  unneces- 
sary.    The  Indians  of  the  Six  Nations  —  Cayugas, 


124  DANIEL   BOONE 

Onondagas,  Oneidas,  Senecas,  Mohawks,  and 
Tuscaroras  —  had  already  transferred  their  land 
east  of  the  Ohio  River  to  the  king  of  England  by 
the  treaty  of  Fort  Stanwix,  New  York,  1768.  The 
Shawnees  and  other  northwestern  tribes  had  aban- 
doned their  old  grounds  after  the  defeat  at  Point 
Pleasant,  and  rights  to  Cherokee  territory  had  been 
bought  at  Sycamore  Shoals.  Yet  Indian  nature  had 
not  been  changed  by  promises,  defeats,  or  treaties. 

As  the  pioneers  slept  peacefully  that  night  in  the 
wilderness,  which  they  now  considered  theirs,  a 
band  of  red  men  closed  in  about  them,  and  just 
before  sunrise  they  were  startled  from  their  sleep 
by  unearthly  war-cries  and  shots.  One  man  was 
killed  instantly.  Captain  Twetty  was  mortally 
wounded,  and  Felix  Walker  so  severely  injured  that 
for  days  his  condition  was  critical.  Several  mem- 
bers of  the  band  fled  in  fright,  but  the  rest  rallied 
about  Boone,  who  '' appeared  to  possess  firmness 
and  fortitude,"  —  and  the  Indians  vanished. 

The  surprise  might  mean  a  general  attack.  To 
be  on  the  safe  side,  Boone  ordered  his  men  to  build 
a  small  stockade,  and  by  nightfall  they  were  secure 
behind  its  logs.  Nothing  happened  for  two  days. 
Then  the  negro  woman,  while  gathering  wood  out- 
side the  fort,  discovered  a  man  behind  a  tree.  She 
rushed  to  the  stronghold,  crying,  ''Indians!" 


MAKING  THE  WILDERNESS  ROAD        125 

Colonel  Boone  instantly  seized  his  rifle,  ordered 
his  men  to  conceal  themselves,  give  battle,  and  not 
to  run  until  they  saw  the  savage  fall.  As  they  were 
ready  to  open  fire,  the  lurking  man  stepped  before 
them  and  proved  to  be  one  of  the  band  who  had 
fled  on  the  night  of  the  attack. 

This  amusing  episode  was  soon  forgotten  in  the 
general  melancholy  occasioned  by  the  death  of  Cap- 
tain Twetty  that  same  day.  In  consequence,  a 
number  of  the  road-makers  lost  their  courage,  and, 
believing  that  sooner  or  later  they  all  would  suffer 
a  similar  fate,  begged  Boone  to  go  home.  Did  any 
one,  though,  suppose  that  Daniel  Boone  would 
accept  defeat  in  Kentucky  a  second  time?  He 
replied  grimly  that  he  would  not  return  to  the  settle- 
ments. Felix  Walker  says  that  he  appeared  to 
have  no  fear  and  no  thought  of  consequences,  some- 
times even  lacking  sufficient  caution  for  the  enter- 
prise. But  Boone  had  a  purpose  in  life,  and  this 
purpose  he  was  bound  to  fulfill. 

Fearing  that  his  disheartened  companions  might 
desert  him,  on  April  i  he  dispatched  a  letter  to 
Henderson,  telling  him  of  the  reverses  they  had 
suffered  and  asking  for  help. 

''My  advice  to  you.  Sir,"  he  wrote,  ''is,  to  come 
or  send  as  soon  as  possible.  Your  company  is 
desired  greatly,  for  the  people  are  very  uneasy, 


126  DANIEL  BOONE 

but  are  willing  to  stay  and  venture  their  lives 
with  you." 

That  day  they  packed  up  their  baggage  and 
began  the  last  stage  of  their  journey  to  Big  Lick 
on  the  Kentucky  River,  just  below  the  mouth  of 
Otter  Creek.  Three  or  four  men  remained  behind 
to  care  for  Felix  Walker,  who,  five  days  later,  was 
placed  in  a  litter  and  borne  by  two  horses  over  the 
newly-marked  course.  The  youth's  wounds  and 
suffering  had  touched  the  paternal  heart  of  Boone, 
and  he  had  ministered  to  the  boy's  needs  as  best 
he  could.  Walker  says  that  Boone  paid  him 
''unremitting  kindness,  sympathy,  and  attention. 
.  .  .  He  was  my  father,  my  physician,  and  friend. 
He  attended  me  as  his  child,  cured  my  wounds  by 
the  use  of  medicines  from  the  woods,  and  nursed 
me  with  affection  until  I  recovered,  without  the 
expectation  of  reward.  Gratitude  is  the  only 
tribute  I  can  pay  his  memory." 

From  Silver  Creek  to  Big  Lick  on  the  Kentucky 
River  the  buffaloes  had  worn  a  track,  and  along 
this  well-marked  ''street,"  as  hunters  sometimes 
called  game-trails,  Boone  directed  the  remainder 
of  his  course.  Road-building  was  now  an  easy 
matter,  and  the  men  made  merry  as  they  went 
along,  enjoying  the  present  and  anticipating  the 
future.     As  they  were  cKmbing  a  slight  hill,  just 


MAKING  THE  WILDERNESS  ROAD        127 

before  their  journey's  end,  they  heard  with  surprise 
and  wonder  a  distant  rumbling.  Boone  urged  them 
to  hasten  to  the  summit,  and  there,  looking  down 
upon  the  rolling  plains,  they  saw  a  sight  astonishing 
to  them.  Just  at  that  moment,  between  two  and 
three  hundred  buffaloes  of  all  sizes  were  turning 
away  from  Big  Lick  and  crossing  the  Kentucky 
River  —  ''some  running,  some  walking,  others 
loping  slowly  and  carelessly,  with  young  calves 
playing,  skipping,  and  bounding  through  the  plain." 

A  lovely  scene  spread  before  them  as  they  rested 
there  on  the  brow  of  the  hill.  Beautiful  bottom 
lands  lay  beneath  them,  watered  by  the  clear  stream 
which  winked  and  sparkled  on  its  course,  and  all 
the  wild  and  fertile  region  seemed  full  of  promise 
for  those  who  were  willing  to  plan  and  work. 
Boone  surely  had  served  them  well.  His  Wilder- 
ness Road,  winding  behind  them  for  two  hundred 
miles,  over  mountain  and  through  wastes,  had 
indeed  brought  them  to  a  paradise.  Here,  in  the 
hollow  at  their  feet,  it  was  to  end,  and  the  new  life 
of  the  West  was  to  begin. 

Later,  they  went  down  into  the  plain.  In  a 
place  finely  suited  for  a  camp,  a  level  stretch  shel- 
tered on  one  side  by  thick  woods  and  bounded  on 
the  other  by  the  open  river,  Boone  ordered  his  men 
to  halt.     There  the  soil  was  firm  and  rich,  and, 


128  DANIEL  BOONE 

although  very  early  spring,  it  was  covered  in  places 
with  fine  white  clover  and  the  beautiful  grass 
which  was  to  be  so  widely  known  as  Kentucky 
^'blue  grass,"  and  to  prove  such  excellent  fodder 
for  Kentucky's  famous  horses.  Nature  began  to 
blossom  earlier  in  those  days,  before  the  forest  had 
been  cut  away.  Two  springs  welled  up  near  the 
camp  site;  one  a  clear  spring  of  fresh  water,  the 
other  a  sulphur  spring  which  had  saturated  the 
ground  with  the  salt  of  its  waters.  Four  great 
trees,  three  sycamores  and  one  huge  elm,  grew  not 
far  away.  The  white  trunks  of  the  sycamores,  it 
is  said,  were  worn  smooth  with  the  frequent  rubbing 
of  buffaloes  on  their  way  to  and  from  the  Hck.  The 
elm  was  especially  admired  by  Henderson  on  his 
arrival.  He  said  that  one  who  saw  it  in  all  its  glory, 
and  who  had  a  soul  to  appreciate  it,  must  call  it 
divine.  Beyond  the  river,  rolling  slowly  on  its  way 
beneath  steep  banks,  lay  v^oods  and  mountains. 
And  in  all  directions  reigned  the  wonderful  stillness 
of  the  far-stretching  wilderness. 

Daniel  Boone  looked  about  him.  Step  by  step 
his  thoughts  traveled  back  over  his  hard-won  road 
to  the  settlements.  And  in  the  settlements  the 
thoughts  of  many  men  and  women  were  travehng 
out  into  the  wilderness  after  him  and  his  men. 
Could  Boone  succeed  against  the  odds  of  nature, 


MAKING  THE  WILDERNESS  ROAD        129 

of  savages  and  beasts,  and  build  a  road  westward 
for  them  and  their  children?  Would  he  persevere 
until  the  Transylvania  colony  rose  in  its  fresh  hope 
far  beyond  their  mountains?  Their  faith  in  him 
was  strong,  but  the  task  was  a  great  one.  Colonel 
Henderson  afterwards  admitted  that  ''it  was  owing 
to  Boone's  confidence  in  us  and  the  people's  in  him 
that  a  stand  was  ever  attempted." 

To  Boone,  standing  on  the  bank  of  Kentucky 
River  near  Big  Lick,  and  thinking  of  his  severe 
trials  and  achievement  and  of  the  future's  happy 
prospect,  the  wilderness  seemed  akeady  won. 


CHAPTER  XIII 

Boone's  Settlement 

A  GOOD  hunter's  meal  and  a  long  rest,  wrapped  in 
their  skin  blankets  in  the  wilderness,  and  the  road- 
makers  were  refreshed  and  ready  for  work.  On 
April  I,  1775,  they  began  to  chop  and  dig  and  to 
lay  the  foundation  of  the  new  West,  while  their 
brother  colonists  in  New  England  were  preparing 
for  the  fast  approaching  day  when  they  would  give 
the  Red  Coats  "ball  for  ball,  from  behind  each 
fence  and  farm-yard  wall,"  and  drive  England  from 
the  land  forever.  The  pioneer  band  was  build- 
ing the  West ;  the  Eastern  patriots  were  fighting 
for  a  free  country  to  which  they  would  annex  the 
West  when  the  power  was  theirs. 

Trees  were  cut  and  logs  prepared  for  cabins  "to 
be  strung  along  the  river  bank"  and  for  a  small  fort 
which  they  named  Fort  Boone.  But  when  shelter, 
sufficient  to  protect  them  from  the  elements  and  to 
serve  as  a  slight  defense  against  the  Indians,  had 
been  built,  the  men  gave  little  more  heed  to  the 
fort.  Like  overgrown  boys,  they  ranged  the  woods 
and  plains,  fascinated  with  the  hunting  and  with 

130 


BOONE'S  SETTLEMENT  131 

the  choosing  of  lands  for  their  new  homes.  Visions 
of  wealth  came  to  them  with  each  fresh  skin  and 
hide  and  each  new  land-claim.  The  rough  sur- 
veying of  these  pioneers,  and  of  those  who  came 
later,  made  many  comphcations,  for,  having  no 
accurate  maps,  they  could  not  tell  where  one  claim 
began  and  another  ended.  Fortunately,  no  general 
Indian  attack  was  made,  although  a  small  band  of 
savages  killed  one  of  the  pioneers  on  April  4.  The 
responsibihty  of  the  undertaking  rested  with  Boone, 
and  naturally  he  was  anxious  that  the  fort  should 
be  completed.  Yet  he  was  glad  that,  for  the  time 
at  least,  his  men  appeared  to  have  forgotten  the 
recent  tragedies  and  to  be  happy  in  the  wilderness. 
While  the  others  explored,  he,  being  a  surveyor  as 
most  settlers  were,  laid  off  the  town-site  into  lots 
of  two  acres  each. 

Meanwhile  his  messenger,  sent  from  the  camp  on 
Silver  Creek,  was  hurrying  eastward  to  beg  Hender- 
son to  come  at  once.  The  young  proprietor  was 
already  riding  away  from  the  settlements  along 
Boone's  trail,  at  the  head  of  a  spirited  caravan. 
When  wigwams  and  Indians  had  disappeared  from 
the  Watauga  Valley,  on  the  third  day  after  the 
signing  of  the  treaty  of  Sycamore  Shoals,  Hender- 
son's arrangements  were  completed,  and  forty 
mounted  riflemen  waited,  ready  for  Transylvania. 


132  DANIEL  BOONE 

The  train  that  accompanied  them  was  imposing  — 
forty  pack  horses,  a  drove  of  cattle,  a  number  of 
negro  slaves,  and  several  wagons,  groaning  under 
stores  and  provisions,  garden  seed,  corn  seed, 
ammunition,  material  for  making  gunpowder,  and 
other  necessities.  In  places,  Boone's  path  was  so 
narrow  that  the  men  needed  to  widen  the  way  still 
more,  and  when  the  party  had  crossed  Powell's 
Valley,  they  were  forced  to  abandon  their  wagons 
entirely. 

As  they  were  re-loading  the  pack  horses  and  hid- 
ing surplus  stores  in  the  woods,  Boone's  messenger 
rode  into  their  camp,  with  news  of  the  Indian  out- 
rage and  of  the  fear  of  further  attack.  Consterna- 
tion prevailed,  certain  faint-hearted  settlers  turning 
back  eastward  at  once.  Henderson  instantly 
realized  that  the  fate  of  his  colony  hung  in  the  bal- 
ance. At  any  moment  Boone's  companions  might 
return  home,  refusing  to  risk  their  lives  longer,  and 
so  bring  an  end  to  his  dreams  for  Transylvania.  As 
soon  as  possible  word  must  reach  Boone  that  he 
was  on  the  way.  He  dispatched  Captain  Cocke,  a 
fearless  messenger,  ''fixed  off  with  a  good  Queen 
Anne's  musket,  plenty  of  ammunition,  a  tomahawk, 
a  large  knife,  a  Dutch  blanket,  and  no  small  quan- 
tity of  jerked  beef  and  letters  from  home,"  to 
reassure  the  road-makers  and  their  leader. 


BOONE'S  SETTLEMENT  133 

Henderson  followed  as  quickly  as  his  large  train 
would  permit,  and  on  April  20,  according  to  his 
diary,  after  traveling  for  more  than  a  month  over 
Boone's  road,  which  he  found  "either  hilly,  stony, 
slippery,  miry,  or  bushy,"  he  and  his  riflemen 
arrived  at  Fort  Boone,  where  they  ''were  saluted 
by  a  running  fire  of  about  twenty-five  Guns,  all 
that  was  then  at  the  Fort." 

The  men  appeared  in  high  spirits  and  much  re- 
joiced at  his  arrival.  An  hour  later,  we  are  told, 
the  entire  company  sat  down  to  a  feast  of  lean 
buffalo  meat  and  cold  water.  No  Thanksgiving 
dinner  could  have  been  eaten  in  a  more  grateful 
spirit.  The  hardships  of  the  journey  and  anxiety 
for  the  colony  were  past  for  Henderson  and  his 
companions,  and  Boone  and  his  pioneers  now  had 
the  support  they  needed. 

With  characteristic  energy,  Henderson  at  once 
discussed  the  situation  with  Boone,  and  together 
they  wandered  over  part  of  the  new  property  by 
the  river.  Boone  showed  the  claims  which  his 
men  had  chosen  —  the  choicest  sites,  of  course, 
about  the  hollow.  Henderson  had  planned  to  locate 
his  little  capital  in  the  picturesque  and  sheltered 
level;  but,  finding  the  best  land  already  taken 
by  the  road-makers,  whom  he  could  not  deprive  of 
it  without  losing  their  good  will,  and  realizing  also 


134  DANIEL  BOONE 

that  Boone's  quarters  would  be  too  small  for  the 
colony's  growing  needs,  he  decided  to  build  upon  a 
slight  elevation,  about  three  hundred  yards  from 
the  hollow  and  overlooking  the  Kentucky  River. 

There,  upon  the  little  hill,  about  the  time  in 
April  when  Paul  Revere  was  taking  his  famous 
ride,  Boone  laid  out  a  fortified  village  which  the 
pioneers  appropriately  named  Boonesborough.  The 
land  was  cleared,  choppers  ranged  the  woods  for 
trees  and  transformed  them  into  logs,  timbers, 
clapboards,  and  puncheons,  and  the  wilderness, 
so  long  quiet  save  for  the  sounds  of  nature,  re- 
sounded with  human  activity,  the  bantering  of 
men  at  work,  and  the  plaintive  songs  of  negroes, 
crooned  for  the  first  time  in  the  West. 

Thirty  cabins  or  more  were  ranged  about  a  hollow 
square  and  protected  by  a  log  stockade  in  which 
there  were  two  openings,  one  gate  on  the  river  side 
and  the  other  toward  the  lick.  A  two-story  block- 
house was  built  at  each  corner,  the  upper  floor 
projecting  in  typical  fashion,  and  in  one  of  these 
Henderson  made  his  headquarters.  Portholes  were 
placed  in  all  the  buildings.  Boone  appears  to  have 
planned  also  a  small  log  magazine,  which  he  built 
half  underground  and  tried  to  make  partially 
fireproof  by  a  roof  of  clay.  Henderson  opened  a 
store  in  a  one-story  cabin,  the  first  shop  in  Ken- 


BOONE'S  SETTLEMENT  135 

tucky,  and  the  road-makers  gathered  there  to  re- 
ceive their  pay  in  supplies,  lead,  powder,  coarse 
linen,  and  other  goods.  Yet  this  station,  although 
well-planned  and  well-begun,  was  not  finished  for 
months.  When  Indians  were  not  seen,  the  men 
gave  no  thought  to  possible  dangers  and  aban- 
doned their  fort-building  for  more  exciting  pursuits 
in  the  woods.  With  a  few  exceptions,  Boone's 
laborers,  and  many  adventurers  who  followed,  were 
crude,  unlettered  pioneers  who  felt  little  moral 
responsibility  for  the  success  of  the  West.  Hen- 
derson, who  had  had  social  and  educational  op- 
portunities, spoke  of  them  rather  slightingly. 
The  road-makers,  however,  had  borne  the  hardships 
of  chopping  a  way  through  the  wilderness ;  now 
they  wanted  to  reap  their  reward. 

May  had  already  come,  and  spring  beauty  reigned 
in  Kentucky.  The  Transylvania  grant  seemed 
prospering.  By  this  time  four  settlements  had 
been  planted  in  the  region  —  Boonesborough, 
Harrodsburg,  Boiling  Spring,  and  St.  Asaph  —  and 
Henderson  felt  that  the  time  had  come  to  prepare 
for  a  convention  at  which  a  plan  for  the  govern- 
ment of  the  colony  by  popular  representation 
should  be  adopted  and  officers  elected.  In  the 
name  of  the  proprietors,  he  asked  each  little  com- 
munity to  elect  members  to  a  ''House  of  Delegates 


136  DANIEL  BOONE 

of  the  Colony  of  Transylvania/'  and  send  them  to 
meet  in  the  ''Capital"  on  the  23d  of  the  month. 
Daniel  and  Squire  Boone  were  two  of  the  six  chosen 
to  represent  Boonesborough.  The  other  settle- 
ments selected  four  members  each.  On  the  Tues- 
day appointed,  these  twelve  rode  over  to  Boones- 
borough on  their  novel  and  important  business. 

The  small  assembly  was  called  to  order  under 
the  great  elm  in  the  hollow.  Henderson  said : 
*'The  diameter  of  its  branches  from  the  extreme 
ends  is  one  hundred  feet,  and  every  fair  day  it 
describes  a  semicircle  on  the  heavenly  green  around 
it,  of  upward  of  four  hundred  feet,  and  any  time 
between  the  hours  of  ten  and  two,  one  hundred 
persons  may  commodiously  seat  themselves  under 
its  branches.  This  divine  tree  is  to  be  our  church, 
state  house,  and  council  chamber." 

The  delegates  seated  themselves,  in  a  spirit  of 
solemnity,  on  the  white  clover  before  a  low  plat- 
form erected  at  the  foot  of  the  elm,  and  the  proceed- 
ings were  opened  by  a  minister  from  Harrodsburg 
who  offered  prayer.  A  presiding  officer  and  clerk 
were  elected,  and  then  the  proprietors  —  Hender- 
son, Hart,  and  Luttrell  —  having  been  waited  upon 
by  a  committee,  appeared  before  the  assembly. 

Henderson  addressed  them  dramatically  and 
at  length.    He  flattered  them  by  declaring  that 


BOONE'S  SETTLEMENT  137 


t( 


all  power  is  originally  with  the  people,"  and  that, 
"ii  prudence,  firmness,  and  wisdom  are  suffered  to 
influence  your  counsels  and  direct  your  conduct, 
the  peace  and  harmony  of  thousands  may  be  ex- 
pected to  result  from  your  deliberations."  He 
w^arned  them  of  dangers  from  Indians,  suggested 
essential  lav/s,  and  assured  them  that  they  had  the 
right  to  make  laws  *' without  giving  offense  to 
Great  Britain  or  any  of  the  American  colonies, 
and  without  disturbing  the  repose  of  any  society 
or  community."  A  contract  between  the  pro- 
prietors and  the  colonists  was  drawn  up  and  signed, 
and  the  next  day  Henderson  received  full  posses- 
sion of  the  land  from  the  Cherokees,  according  to 
a  pretty,  ancient  custom.  The  lawyer  represent- 
ing the  Indians  handed  Henderson  a  piece  of 
Kentucky  turf,  and  together  they  held  it  while  the 
lawyer  declared  the  transaction  completed. 

The  sessions  continued  for  three  days,  and  nine 
bills  were  passed.  In  this  law-making,  Daniel 
Boone  was  particularly  active.  He  proposed  a 
law  for  the  protection  and  preservation  of  game, 
and  served  as  chairman  of  the  committee  chosen  to 
frame  the  law.  The  condition  of  the  food  supply, 
even  so  soon  after  the  settlement  of  the  wilderness, 
may  be  judged  from  Henderson's  journal  for  May  9, 

1775: 


138  DANIEL  BOONE 

*'We  find  it  very  difficult  to  stop  great  waste  in 
killing  meat.  Some  would  kill  three,  four,  five,  or 
half  a  dozen  buffaloes  and  not  take  half  a  horse- 
load  from  them  all.  For  want  of  a  little  obligatory 
law,  our  game,  as  soon  as  we  got  here,  if  not  before, 
was  driven  off  very  far.  Fifteen  or  twenty  miles 
was  as  short  a  distance  as  good  hunters  thought  of 
getting  meat,  nay,  sometimes  they  were  obliged  to 
go  thirty,  though  by  chance  once  or  twice  a  week 
buffaloes  were  killed  within  five  or  six  miles."  On 
May  1 7,  he  WTO te  : 

''Hunters  not  returned.  No  meat  but  fat  bear- 
meat.  Almost  starved.  Drank  a  little  coffee  and 
trust  to  luck  for  dinner.  Am  just  going  to  our 
little  plant-patches  in  hopes  the  greens  will  bear 
cropping ;  if  so,  a  sumptuous  dinner  indeed.  Mr. 
Calloway's  men  got  a  little  spoiled  buffalo  and 
elk,  which  we  made  out  with  pretty  well,  depending 
on  amendment  to-morrow." 

Boone  gladly  served  on  the  game  committee,  as 
he  was  distressed  to  find  animals,  even  in  Ken- 
tucky, seeking  western  trails. 

Boone  also  proposed  a  law  to  improve  the  breed 
of  horses.  The  early  pioneers  were  horse-lovers, 
and,  although  they  took  with  them  comparatively 
few  horses,  the  stock  was  good.  They  found  that 
their  animals  flourished  on  the  native  blue  grass, 


BOONE'S  SETTLEMENT  139 

growing  plentifully  in  the  woods.  Indeed,  in  later 
years,  it  has  been  maintained  that  the  very  bones 
of  horses  that  have  grazed  upon  Kentucky  grass 
from  infancy  are  harder  than  those  of  animals  raised 
elsewhere.  On  account  of  the  virtue  of  this  grass, 
nurtured  in  Hmestone  soil,  and  of  the  general  in- 
terest of  Kentuckians  in  horses,  we  now  look  to 
that  state  to  furnish  the  hnest  horses  our  country 
can  produce.  Boone's  short  bill,  introduced  into 
the  House  of  Delegates,  proved  to  be  an  historic 
measure. 

On  Sunday,  following  the  close  of  the  assembly, 
divine  service  was  held  in  the  shade  of  the  great 
elm.  The  majority  of  the  pioneers,  however 
rough  and  uncultivated,  were  strong  in  the  simple 
faith  of  their  mothers.  One  of  the  bills  which  they 
had  passed  was  "  an  act  to  prevent  profane  swearing 
and  Sabbath  breaking."  The  British  king  and 
royal  family  were  remembered  in  their  prayers 
that  Sunday  morning,  as  was  customary;  yet  it 
proved  to  be  the  first  and  only  service  in  Kentucky 
during  which  the  "most  gracious  Sovereign  Lord, 
King  George,"  was  mentioned  in  the  litany.  The 
battles  of  Lexington  and  Concord  had  been  fought 
five  weeks  before,  and  the  struggle  for  independence 
was  well  begun.  Within  a  week  after  this  unique, 
open-air    service   in    the   wilderness,    the   belated 


I40  DANIEL  BCMDNE 

eastern  news  reached  Transylvania,  and  great  was 
the  enthusiasm  among  the  far-away  settlers. 

When  the  delegates  had  gone  home  and  the 
unusual  excitement  of  the  House  had  subsided, 
the  men  of  Boonesborough  gave  their  attention  to 
everyday  life.  The  more  restless,  who  had  gone 
west  for  adventure  rather  than  to  build  homes, 
began  to  sell  their  lots  and  go  away.  Others,  Hke 
Boone,  finished  their  houses  for  the  famiUes  which 
they  hoped  to  settle  there ;  cultivated  their  gar- 
dens, where  corn,  peas,  snap-beans,  and  cucumbers 
were  thriving ;  and  went  hunting.  Boone's  chief 
desire  was  to  complete  the  Httle  log  shelter  in  the 
hollow,  and  install  Rebecca  and  the  children  there 
in  safety.  Finally,  with  the  help  of  his  men,  it 
stood  finished,  and  on  Tuesday,  June  13,  1775, 
according  to  Henderson's  journal,  '' Colonel  Boone 
set  ofi  for  his  family  and  the  young  men  went  with 
him  for  salt." 

The  detail  of  men  were  to  ride  as  far  as  Martin's 
cabin  in  Powell's  Valley,  and  to  fetch  the  salt  left 
there  by  Henderson  when  the  narrowness  of  the 
trail  forced  him  to  leave  his  wagons  behind.  Salt 
was  most  important  in  the  border  settlements,  as 
is  seen  by  Henderson's  entry  of  July  1 2  : 

"Our  salt  quite  out  except  about  a  quart  which 
I  brought  from  Harrodsburg.     The  men,  sent  for 


BOONE'S  SETTLEMENT  141 

salt,  not  yet  returned,  nor  any  news  from  the  East. 
Times  a  little  melancholy,  provisions  very  scarce, 
no  salt  to  enable  us  to  save  meat  at  any  distance 
from  home.  .  .  .  Weather  very  dry,  and  we  not 
able  to  raise  above  fourteen  or  fifteen  fighting  men 
at  any  one  time,  unless  they  were  all  summoned, 
which  could  not  easily  be  done  without  long  notice, 
they  being  much  dispersed,  hunting,  &c." 

Boone  and  his  old  neighbor,  Richard  Callo- 
way, went  east  together.  Boone's  family  was  at 
*'Snoddy's  on  CHnch,"  the  site  of  the  present  town 
of  Castlewood,  Russell  County,  Virginia,  and  the 
Calloways  were  also  in  a  Virginia  fort.  For  a 
second  time,  Rebecca  Boone  made  the  family  ready 
for  the  journey  to  Kentucky.  It  must  have  been  a 
proud  and  happy  moment  for  her  when  she  entered 
the  road  which  her  husband  had  planned  and 
blazed. 

Besides  the  men  who  had  gone  east  for  salt,  were 
a  number  of  settlers  bound  for  Harrodsburg,  who 
returned  with  Boone.  His  own  party  consisted 
of  thirty  persons  —  ''twenty-one  guns,"  it  is  said. 
Pack  horses  carried  their  household  goods  and  pro- 
visions ;  their  cattle  ambled  along  with  them,  and 
their  dogs  ran  on  ahead,  scouring  the  strange  forest 
eagerly.  Boonesborough  was  watching  for  the 
party  on  September  8,  as  they  emerged  from  the 


142  DANIEL  BOONE 

tangled  woods,  and  ''all  hands"  turned  out  towel- 
come  them  —  and  the  salt ! 

Mrs.  Boone  and  Jemima  were,  as  Filson  says,  the 
first  white  women  ^  "that  ever  stood  on  the  banks 
of  Kentucky  river";  and  they  remained  the  only 
women  in  Boonesborough  for  three  weeks.  Then 
Colonel  Calloway  and  his  family  and  party  arrived, 
adding  three  matrons  and  several  young  women  to 
the  settlement. 

At  first  the  Boones  made  their  home  in  a  cabin 
in  the  hollow,  but  soon  after  they  moved  into  the 
log  fort  on  the  Httle  hill.  Boonesborough's  his- 
torian, George  W.  Ranck,  says  : 

''The  influence  of  sunbonnets,  though  there  were 
but  a  solitary  couple  of  them,  was  soon  seen. 
The  men,  especially  the  younger  ones,  immediately 
improved  in  appearance,  for  there  was  a  sudden 
craze  for  shaving  and  hair-cutting.  An  ash- 
hopper,  soap-kettle  and  clothes-lines  were  set  up. 
Hickory  brooms  and  homemade  washboards  multi- 
plied. The  sound  of  the  spinning-wheel  was  heard 
in  the  land,  and  an  occasional  sight  could  be  had  of 
a  Httle  looking-glass,  a  patch-work  quilt,  knitting 
needles  and  a  turkey- tail  fan."     The  settlement 

^Mrs.  Hays  (Susannah  Boone)  had  set  out  for  the  wilderness, 
when  her  father  cut  the  road,  but  no  further  reference  to  her 
appears. 


BOONE'S  SETTLEMENT  143 

was  blessed  with  peace  and  good  crops,  and  all 
seemed  well. 

The  spirit  of  liberty  and  equality,  thrilling  the 
Eastern  colonists  in  their  battles  of  the  Revolution, 
was  already  stirring  the  wilderness  settlers  in  Tran- 
sylvania. They  were  beginning  to  wish  themselves 
free  of  their  proprietors  —  a  revolutionary  idea 
which  animated  many  discussions  by  cabin  hearths. 
As  the  summer  and  autumn  passed,  various  griev- 
ances arose  to  intensify  this  feeling.  Between  two 
and  three  hundred  new  settlers  came  to  Transyl- 
vania during  that  time,  expecting  to  pay  reasonable 
sums  for  their  lands,  but  the  proprietors  raised 
the  previous  selling  prices  exorbitantly.  It  was 
also  discovered  that  Henderson  and  his  associates 
had  reserved  for  themselves  and  friends  almost 
seventy  thousand  acres  of  the  choicest  land  near 
the  Falls  of  the  Ohio.  Goods  and  supplies  at  the 
Company's  store  at  Boonesborough  were  high,  and 
labor,  hired  by  the  Company,  was  poorly  paid.  An 
unexpected  Indian  attack,  although  slight,  empha- 
sized their  possible  need  of  help  and  protection 
from  Eastern  settlers.  Unhappiness  spread  until 
the  Transylvanians  decided  to  overthrow  their 
proprietors  and  beg  Virginia  to  admit  the  former 
Cherokee  terricory  as  a  county. 

While    this    opposition    was    brewing    in   their 


144  DANIEL  BOONE 

colony,  Henderson  and  Luttrell  were  on  their  way 
to  North  Carolina  to  discuss  Transylvania's  situa- 
tion with  their  partners,  as  the  colony's  future 
looked  somewhat  dark.  If  they  could  influence 
the  Continental  Congress  to  admit  Transylvania 
as  the  fourteenth  state  in  the  original  Union,  their 
right  to  sell  the  land  would  be  established  for  all 
time,  and  their  fortunes  assured.  They  decided 
to  appeal  to  the  delegates ;  but  they  appealed  in 
vain.  The  Congress  would  not  receive  Transyl- 
vania under  those  terms.  When  the  Declaration 
of  Independence  was  proclaimed,  there  was  no 
further  hope  for  ^'proprietors"  in  a  country  an- 
nouncing to  the  world  that  ''these  United  Colonies 
are  and  of  right  ought  to  be  free  and  independent 
States." 

Meanwhile,  the  discontent  of  the  Transylvania 
settlers  had  moved  them  to  definite  action.  They 
drew  up  a  resolution  and  sent  it  to  the  Virginia 
Convention,  setting  forth  their  desires.  In  De- 
cember, 1776,  the  State  Legislature  of  Virginia 
granted  this  petition  of  the  "inhabitants  of  Ken- 
tuckie."  An  act  was  also  passed,  defining  the 
territory  as  Kentucky  County,  Virginia,  and  includ- 
ing within  its  boundaries  the  grant  which  Hender- 
son had  bought  from  the  Cherokees.  A  county 
government  was  organized,  and  Daniel  Boone  was 


BOONE'S  SETTLEMENT  145 

appointed  one  of  four  captains  for  the  region. 
Thus  Transylvania  passed  into  history,  and  the 
one-time  proprietors  of  the  seventeen  million 
acres  were  proprietors  no  more.  But  the  West, 
which  had  come  into  being  over  Boone's  hard-won 
road,  remained. 

The  Virginians  acted  considerately.  They 
realized  and  appreciated  the  efforts  of  the  nine 
associates  of  the  Transylvania  Company.  On 
November  4,  1778,  the  House  of  Delegates  resolved 
that  ''as  the  said  Richard  Henderson  and  Company 
have  been  at  very  great  expense  in  making  the  said 
purchase  and  settling  the  said  lands  —  by  which 
this  Commonwealth  is  likely  to  receive  great 
advantages,  by  increasing  its  inhabitants  and 
establishing  a  barrier  against  the  Indians  —  it  is 
just  and  reasonable  to  allow  the  said  Richard 
Henderson  and  Company  a  compensation  for 
their  trouble  and  expense."  The  Virginia  General 
Assembly  voted  the  proprietors  a  grant  of  two 
hundred  thousand  acres  of  land  in  Kentucky,  and 
a  similar  grant  later  was  made  to  them  by  North 
Carolina,  which  state  embraced  a  portion  of  the 
former  Indian  hunting-ground. 

Boonesborough  and  the  other  communities  of 
Kentucky  County  had  little  sympathy  for  their 
former  proprietors  in  their  loss.     Perhaps  Daniel 


146  DANIEL  BOONE 

Boone  alone,  of  all  the  settlers,  held  a  warm  place 
for  them  in  his  heart.  Through  Henderson, 
Boone's  long-cherished  dream  of  a  home  beyond 
the  Alleghany  Mountains  had  been  realized,  and 
he  himself  had  become  the  proud  possessor  of  a 
large  tract  of  land  in  the  wilderness,  as  the  asso- 
ciates had  recognized  his  part  in  their  undertaking 
and  rewarded  it  at  their  meeting  in  North  Carolina 
in  September. 

"Resolved,"  their  resolution  read,  '^That  a 
present  of  two  thousand  acres  of  land  be  made  to 
Colonel  Daniel  Boone,  with  the  thanks  of  the  Pro- 
prietors, for  the  signal  services  he  has  rendered  to 
the  Company." 

As  Boone  looked  back  over  the  year,  he  must 
have  felt  satisfied  with  the  blossoming  of  the  wilder- 
ness, and  his  share  in  its  development.  Many 
colonists  of  influence  had  made  their  way  along  his 
path,  and  had  built  and  sowed  in  Kentucky.  Over 
nine  hundred  entries  of  land,  embracing  five  hun- 
dred and  sixty  thousand  acres,  had  been  made  in 
the  land  office  of  Boonesborough.  Orchards  had 
been  planted,  two  hundred  and  thirty  acres  of 
corn  had  been  raised,  and  live  stock,  hens,  and 
horses  were  increasing  in  number.  Ofiicials  had 
been  chosen  to  guard  the  people's  welfare,  and  a 
militia  had  been  organized  to  withstand  Indian 


BOONE'S  SETTLEMENT  147 

attack.  Besides  —  and  perhaps  best  of  all  — 
twelve  mothers  had  come  to  Kentucky,  and  were 
exerting  a  precious  influence  in  the  wilderness. 
The  beginning  of  the  West  was  firmly  established. 
Daniel  Boone  had  made  possible  a  wonderful 
enterprise. 


CHAPTER  XIV 
"A  Land  Hard  to  Hold" 

On  a  Sunday  afternoon  in  July,  1776,  at  the  close 
of  the  usual  Bible  reading,  Jemima  Boone  and 
Betsey  and  Fanny  Calloway  went  canoeing  on  the 
Kentucky  River.  The  day  was  warm  and  lazy, 
and  the  girls  let  their  rough  craft  drift  with  the 
stream.  The  current  bore  them  along  pleasantly, 
and  the  girls  chattered,  as  girls  of  fourteen  and 
sixteen  will,  until  their  canoe  swerved  toward  the 
opposite  bank  and  floated  along  close  to  the  bushes 
on  the  shore.  They  had  a  happy  time  with  no 
fear,  as  Indians  had  not  been  seen  about  Boones- 
borough  since  winter. 

As  it  happened,  however,  Indians  were  at  that 
moment  watching  them.  Five  young  warriors  — 
four  from  Shawnee  towns  and  one  Cherokee  — 
had  bedecked  themselves  with  feathers  and  paint 
according  to  hideous,  savage  custom,  and  had  come 
to  Boonesborough  to  wreak  their  vengeance  upon 
the  settlers  for  the  treaty  which  their  chiefs  had 
signed  at  the  close  of  Dunmore's  War.  To  steal 
the  girls  would  make  a  good  beginning. 

148 


"A  LAND   HARD  TO  HOLD"  149 

Suddenly  a  hand  reached  from  the  thicket  and 
roughly  seized  the  frail  skiff  —  and  the  girls  found 
themselves  face  to  face  with  red  men.  The  story 
goes  that  Betsey  Calloway  belabored  one  of  the 
savages  about  the  head  with  her  paddle,  while  the 
other  girls  sat  paralyzed  with  fear.  The  Indians 
pulled  them  to  the  shore  and  hurried  them  into  the 
lonely  woods,  threatening  them  with  the  fatal 
tomahawk  if  they  showed  alarm  or  resistance. 
The  savages  set  their  customary  swift  pace,  and  the 
girls  kept  step  with  them,  realizing  that,  if  they 
lagged  behind,  their  captors  would  not  hesitate 
to  kill  them,  even  though  they  were  girls.  For- 
tunately for  their  fathers,  they  bethought  them- 
selves of  leaving  a  trail  behind  them,  as  if  they  were 
playing  ''Hare  and  Hounds."  They  stepped 
heavily  in  the  soft  earth,  broke  away  twigs,  and 
tore  off  little  pieces  of  their  dresses  and  caught 
them  on  the  bushes.  Thus  they  were  hurried 
farther  and  farther  from  home  and  ever  nearer  to 
the  strange  Shawnee  towns  on  the  Ohio. 

The  afternoon  passed  in  Boonesborough  and 
milking  time  came.  The  daughters  did  not  ap- 
pear. Instead,  a  hunter  rushed  into  the  inclosure 
with  news  of  an  empty  canoe  in  the  river  and  of 
tracks  on  the  bank.  Daniel  Boone  at  once  made  up 
a  rescue  party  of  men  on  foot,  while  Colonel  Callo- 


I50  DANIEL  BOONE 

way  gathered  a  company  of  horsemen,  and  the  two 
bands  set  out  in  opposite  directions.  Calloway 
hoped  to  head  off  the  Indians  on  their  way  home  at 
Licking  River,  while  Boone  followed  the  slender 
trail  through  fields,  woods,  and  canebrakes. 
Boone's  party  was  particularly  eager  in  this  chase, 
as  three  of  the  members  were  in  love  with  the  three 
girls  who  had  been  so  suddenly  spirited  out  of  sight. 
About  thirty-five  miles  from  Boonesborough,  on 
the  second  day  after  the  kidnapping,  fragrant  whiffs 
of  burning  wood  and  roasting  meat  were  wafted 
to  them,  and  through  the  tangle  of  foliage  they 
caught  the  welcome  sight  of  three  young  girls 
sitting  on  the  ground  not  far  from  five  Indian 
braves.  They  dashed  upon  the  Indians,  killing 
two  Shawnees  at  once.  The  other  savages  fled, 
and  the  girls  sped  into  the  arms  of  their  rescuers, 
safe  and  sound,  but  thoroughly  frightened. 

This  outrage  proved  to  be  only  the  beginning  of 
fresh  Indian  hostilities.  Fortunately,  though, 
merry  times  came  even  to  pioneers,  and  before 
fugitives  from  outlying  settlements  appeared  in 
late  July  with  news  that  the  savages  had  again 
taken  up  the  hatchet,  Boonesborough  had  re- 
covered its  composure  and  had  celebrated  the 
wedding  of  Betsey  Calloway  and  the  lover  who  had 
rescued    her    from    the    Indians.     Daniel    Boone, 


"A  LAND  HARD   TO  HOLD"  151 

like  his  father,  had  become  a  justice  of  the  peace,  and 
he  performed  the  ceremony  for  them  in  a  frontier 
cabin,  made  gay  with  the  flickering  light  of  buffalo- 
tallow  candles  and  the  strains  of  a  wilderness 
fiddle.  History  records  no  wedding  cake  at  this 
first  marriage  in  Kentucky,  but  it  does  tell  of  water- 
melons for  refreshment,  the  first  grown  in  Boone's 
settlement. 

Following  close  on  the  heels  of  this  gala  time, 
came  the  news  of  the  Declaration  of  Independence, 
and  although  belated,  this  first  Fourth  was  cele- 
brated by  the  pioneers  with  jubilation.  Logs 
and  branches  were  dragged  from  the  woods  and 
piled  high,  and  that  night  a  huge  bonfire  flamed 
in  the  wilderness,  like  the  ardent  spirit  of  the  em- 
pire-builders themselves,  who  were  standing  in  its 
glow. 

From  that  patriotic  celebration  in  1776,  until 
the  close  of  1777,  Boonesborough  and  the  other 
Kentucky  communities  were  harassed  by  Indians 
and  in  almost  constant  anxiety  and  distress.  The 
chieftain's  warning  to  Boone  at  Sycamore  Shoals 
became  a  reaUty. 

''Brother,"  he  had  said,  "it  is  a  fine  land  we 
sell  to  you,  but  I  fear  you  will  find  it  hard  to  hold." 

Plundering,  burning,  killing,  and  scalping,  small 
bands   of   Shawnees   swept   through   the   ancient 


152  DANIEL  BOONE 

hunting-ground,  regardless  of  promises  and  treaties, 
and  in  July  settlers  from  various  parts  of  the  region 
fled  with  a  few  belongings  to  the  fort  at  Boones- 
borough  and  begged  refuge.  The  fortifications 
were  partially  completed  in  haste  and  the  heavy 
gates  closed,  to  the  great  relief  of  the  anxious 
settlers.  Messengers  were  dispatched  to  Virginia, 
the  Carolinas,  and  Pennsylvania,  to  beg  help  of 
those  states  which  had  sent  many  prominent 
settlers  to  Kentucky.  Virginia  sent  a  supply  of 
powder  to  Boone,  who  was  generally  recognized  as 
commander-in-chief,  and  also  a  pack-horse  load  of 
lead.  Later  a  boat-load  of  powder  came  by  way 
of  the  Ohio.  But  Httle  more  could  be  done  for 
the  forlorn  Kentuckians,  as  Washington's  army 
was  demanding  all  supplies  and  reinforcements 
for  the  Revolution. 

Affairs  continued  to  grow  worse.  The  British, 
fully  aroused  to  the  imminent  danger  of  losing  their 
colonies,  incited  the  Mingos  and  Cherokees  as 
well  as  the  Shawnees  to  make  war  upon  the  settlers, 
and  the  West  became  a  battleground  even  as  the 
East.  Traveling  in  and  out  of  the  wilderness  was 
extremely  hazardous,  and  those  pioneers  who  had 
not  fled  at  the  opening  of  hostilities  were  shut  up 
in  their  Kttle  forts.  Bloodthirsty  savages  en- 
dangered their  stockades  or  hid  in  ambush  to  fall 


"A  LAND  HARD  TO  HOLD"  153 

upon  and  scalp  any  one  who  dared  to  leave  the 
fort  for  water  or  fresh  meat.  The  colonists, 
huddled  within  the  inclosures,  discouraged  and 
often  hungry,  were  shut  off  from  any  communica- 
tion with  the  home  settlements,  and  frequently 
sieges  were  so  well  planned  by  the  Indians  that 
different  forts  were  attacked  simultaneously  and 
their  garrisons  rendered  unable  to  assist  one  another. 
The  savages  intended  to  reduce  the  men  and  women 
to  starvation,  wipe  out  their  hated  settlements, 
and  let  the  wilderness  become  itself  again. 

Boone  was  constantly  on  the  alert,  encouraging 
flagging  spirits  and  exerting  himself  to  the  utmost 
to  keep  food  on  hand  in  the  forts.  It  became  his 
custom  to  set  out  on  his  hunting  expeditions  after 
dark  and  to  return  before  morning.  Indians  were 
usually  secreted  in  the  trees  and  bushes  about 
Boonesborough  and  every  precaution  was  neces- 
sary. 

Late  in  April,  a  band  of  fifty  or  a  hundred 
Shawnees  skulked  through  the  woods,  planning  to 
entrap  Boone  and  his  men  this  time  without  doubt. 
The  majority  hid  themselves  in  the  long  grass, 
while  a  mere  handful  sallied  toward  the  fort, 
hoping  to  induce  the  settlers  to  come  out  and 
pursue  them.  For  some  strange  reason,  Boone  did 
exactly  as  they  wished.    He  rushed  out  of  the 


154  DANIEL  BOONE 

gate,  his  garrison  after  him,  and  ran  headlong 
into  the  band,  lying  silently  and  gleefully  in  am- 
bush. A  terrible  struggle  ensued.  Several  settlers 
were  seriously  wounded,  among  them  Boone  him- 
self, whose  leg  was  broken  by  a  bullet.  He  fell, 
and  an  exultant  warrior,  hooting  madly  with  joy, 
rushed  to  him,  intending  to  bear  off  his  scalp.  Had 
it  not  been  for  Simon  Kenton,  a  young  man  of 
Boonesborough,  whose  brilliant  deeds  of  prowess 
have  made  his  name  memorable,  Boone's  service 
to  his  country  surely  would  have  ceased  on  that 
April  day,  and  the  history  of  the  Western  settle- 
ments would  have  been  very  different.  In  an 
instant  Kenton  shot  the  Indian  through  the  heart, 
seized  Boone,  and,  fighting  his  way  through  the 
maddened  savages,  bore  him  in  safety  to  the  fort. 
Intrusting  his  honored  chief  to  Mrs.  Boone  and 
others,  Kenton  rushed  back  to  continue  his  deadly 
work  until  the  Indians  were  driven  into  the  forest. 

When  Boone  was  resting  as  comfortably  as  could 
be  expected  with  so  painful  a  wound,  he  sent  for 
Kenton,  and  in  his  simple,  quiet  way  said,  "Well, 
Simon,  you  have  behaved  like  a  man  —  you  are  a 
fine  fellow." 

Kenton's  fame  spread,  as  a  word  of  praise  from 
such  a  man  as  Boone,  who  held  the  fate  and  welfare 
of  the  colonies  in  his  keeping,  was  very  precious. 


"A  LAND   IL^RD  TO  HOLD"  155 

Boone's  wound  confined  him  to  his  cabin  for 
several  months,  and  the  little  house  became  a 
veritable  "Army  Headquarters."  From  his  bed- 
side Boone  gave  directions  for  the  details  of  sieges, 
even  for  the  aiming  and  firing  of  rifles,  as  his  knowl- 
edge of  wily  Indian  ways  was  supreme.  His 
patience  and  unselfishness  during  this  period  of 
suffering  made  his  fellow-settlers  appreciate  still 
more  the  natural  greatness  of  their  leader. 

The  Indians  did  not  again  attack  the  fort  in 
large  numbers  until  the  Fourth  of  July,  1777,  al- 
though they  kept  it  in  continual  peril  and  on  the 
point  of  starvation.  Then,  two  hundred  sav- 
ages hid  in  ambush  as  before  and  tried  to  fool 
the  garrison  a  second  time.  But  the  twenty 
settlers  wisely  kept  within  their  stockade  and  for 
two  days  fired  incessantly,  in  a  brave  attempt  to 
beat  off  the  greater  enemy  and  to  save  their  fort 
from  burning.  The  women  stood  their  ground  as 
bravely  as  the  men,  loading  rifles,  melting  pewter 
plates  into  bullets,  and  serving  as  marksmen  when 
they  were  not  cooking  economically  the  little  food 
on  hand  or  nursing  the  wounded. 

On  the  sixth  of  the  month,  the  Indians  withdrew 
with  their  dead,  considerably  worsted  and  dis- 
couraged with  their  ill  luck  —  and  a  little  good 
cheer  came  again  to  the  settlers.     How  dehcious 


156  DANIEL  BOONE 

to  them  was  the  cool  water  from  the  spring  outside 
the  gate,  which  now  stood  open,  and  how  welcome 
the  fresh  meat  brought  in  by  hunters  from  the 
forest!  A  horseman  immediately  left  for  the 
East  to  beg  sorely-needed  aid,  while  the  settlers 
waited  in  great  want.  Ammunition  became  so 
scarce  that  Httle  hunting  was  allowed,  and  turnips, 
corn,  potatoes,  nuts,  and  wild  grapes  were  their 
only  food. 

The  Indians  haunted  the  region,  although  they 
made  no  general  attack  again  that  year,  watching 
and  planning  for  the  future.  The  last  of  July, 
Shawnees,  resting  on  a  hill  near  the  hollow,  were 
terrified  at  the  sight  of  forty-eight  horsemen  ad- 
vancing from  the  woods  toward  Boonesborough. 
They  fled,  reporting  to  their  tribe  that  two  hundred 
^'Long-knives"  had  come  West.  The  men  proved 
to  be  a  band  of  Yadkin  settlers,  under  Colonel 
Bowman,  come  to  aid  Boone.  In  the  autumn 
one  hundred  more  Virginians  arrived,  and  later 
still,  twelve  sharpshooters  appeared,  guarding  pow- 
der and  lead  securely  fastened  on  the  backs  of 
four  pack  horses.  Life  became  easier  for  a  time, 
yet  ammunition  and  salt  again  ran  low  before  the 
Old  Year  ended. 

Conveniences  and  comforts  in  their  wilderness 
homes    had    increased.     ''Most    of    the    cabins,'* 


"A  LAND  HARD  TO  HOLD"  157 

Mr.  Ranck  says,  "were  provided  with  a  slab- 
table;  a  feather  bed  or  a  buffalo  one;  hickory 
chairs  with  deerskin  seats;  iron  pots,  ovens  and 
skillets ;  big  and  little  gourds,  which  served  many 
purposes  from  dippers  to  egg-baskets,  and  were  used 
to  hold  everything  from  cornmeal  and  soft  soap 
to  maple  sugar.  Bucks'  antlers  and  wooden 
pegs  held  rifles,  powderhorns  and  fishing-poles, 
sunbonnets  and  saddlebags,  bundles  of  dried  herbs, 
strings  of  red  pepper,  and 'hands'  of  tobacco.  A 
shelf  over  the  fireplace  was  reserved  for  medicine, 
tinder  box,  ink  bottle,  quill  pens,  the  Bible,  an 
almanac  and  a  few  other  books,  which  in  some 
cabins  included  'Pilgrim's  Progress'  and  the  plays 
of  Shakespeare." 

Every  now  and  then  news  of  the  progress  of  the 
fight  for  independence  reached  them,  news  as 
cheering  to  Western  settlers  as  to  Eastern  patriots. 
In  November  they  heard  of  the  victories  of  Saratoga 
and  Bennington  and  of  the  capture  of  one  third  of 
the  entire  British  force  in  the  colonies.  They 
pictured  the  prisoners  marched  off  by  American 
officers  bearing  the  Stars  and  Stripes,  which  had 
just  been  adopted  as  the  national  flag.  Again  a 
bonfire  roared  and  flamed  in  celebration,  and  each 
cabin  within  the  barred  stockade  glowed  with 
candles  and  hearth  fires. 


158  DANIEL  BOONE 

Some  critics  have  belittled  Daniel  Boone's 
achievements  because  he  played  no  part  in  the 
American  Revolution.  It  is  true  that  he  fought 
in  no  battle  in  the  East,  but  all  the  War  for  In- 
dependence was  not  waged  on  the  seacoast.  Boone 
fought  the  Indians  —  and  the  Indians  were  the 
allies  of  the  British.  If  Boone  had  not  kept  them 
busy,  fighting  and  fleeing,  they  would  have  been 
able  to  swoop  down  upon  the  Eastern  settlements 
and  aid  their  English  instigators  who  supplied  them 
with  arms  and  ammunition. 

The  years  1776  and  1777  were  hard  for  Daniel 
Boone,  but  his  toil  and  suffering  were  not  in  vain 
in  the  service  of  his  country. 


CHAPTER  XV 
Boone  becomes  an  Indian 

Gunpowder  and  salt !  Without  the  one,  the 
pioneers  of  Kentucky  County  could  not  hunt ; 
without  the  other,  they  could  not  preserve  the  game 
they  killed.  With  the  Indians  warring  all  about 
them,  they  were  unable  to  procure  these  two  neces- 
sities from  the  East,  and  consequent  starvation, 
as  Eugene  Field  says,  forever  threatened  to  ''wipe 
them  slowly  out  of  sight."  During  the  year  of 
darkness,  1777,  Httle  corn  had  been  raised,  and  in 
December  of  that  year  only  two  months'  supply 
of  bread  was  on  hand  for  two  hundred  women  and 
children  besides  the  men. 

The  settlers  decided  that  they  could  make  their 
own  salt  at  the  salt  springs  of  the  various  buffalo 
licks  in  the  region,  if  they  had  suitable  kettles  in 
which  to  boil  and  evaporate  the  salty  water.  Vir- 
ginia sent  out  several  great  iron  receptacles,  and, 
as  the  Indians  seldom  raided  in  the  winter,  prepara- 
tions were  begun  in  the  New  Year,  1778,  for  the 
making  of  the  much-needed  salt  at  once. 

Two  bands  of  salt-makers  were  chosen ;  Captain 

IS9 


i6o  DANIEL  BOONE 

Watkins  and  his  few  visiting  militiamen,  at  that 
time  helping  in  the  defense  of  the  wilderness,  formed 
one  company ;  and  Daniel  Boone  and  thirty  resi- 
dents from  the  three  forts,  the  other.  These  two 
divisions  were  to  take  turns.  On  New  Year's 
Day  Boone  and  his  men  fastened  the  kettles  on  the 
horses,  together  with  fodder,  meal,  and  axes,  and 
set  out  in  severely  cold  weather  for  Lower  Blue  Lick. 
Special  work  was  assigned  each  man.  Some  built 
and  tended  the  fires;  some  drew  water  from  the 
salt  springs;  others  watched  the  boiling  process 
and  the  salt  crystals  appearing  in  the  bottoms  of 
the  kettles,  and  still  others  scoured  the  woods  for 
game.  Boone  served  not  only  as  leader  of  his 
party,  but  also  as  a  scout  and  hunter,  keeping  on 
the  watch  for  Indians  and  bringing  in  meat  for  his 
hungry  men.  The  making  of  salt,  with  their 
crude  arrangements  and  in  cold  weather,  was  a 
long  task.  From  five  hundred  to  eight  hundred 
gallons  of  the  salt  water  had  to  be  evaporated  to 
make  a  bushel  of  salt.  When  the  water  had  boiled 
away,  the  salt  crystals  were  emptied  into  sacks  and 
stored  in  a  dry  place.  Some  of  it  was  sent  at  once 
to  the  settlement  on  pack  horses  and  under  the 
guard  of  several  men,  but  the  greater  part  of  it 
was  hoarded  in  the  camp.  More  than  a  month 
passed  peacefully  in  this  activity. 


BOONE  BECOMES  AN  INDIAN  i6i 

As  Boone  and  his  horse  were  making  their  way 
back  to  the  shelter  through  a  great,  swirhng, 
blinding  snowstorm  in  the  evening  dusk  of  February 
7,  bearing  a  load  of  buffalo  meat  and  beaver  skins 
from  the  forest,  four  painted  Shawnee  braves  rose 
out  of  the  buried  thicket  and  confronted  him.  In- 
stantly he  dropped  the  horse's  halter  and  sped 
through  the  snow,  dodging  behind  trees  and  circhng 
in  his  course,  hoping  to  outwit  and  outrun  the  sav- 
ages. But  in  spite  of  his  swiftness,  the  Indians  over- 
took him  and  led  him  away,  a  bound  captive,  to 
their  camp,  where  their  chief,  Black  Fish,  and  one 
hundred  and  twenty  warriors  welcomed  him  loudly. 
*'  Brother,"  they  called  him  in  mock  friendship,  and 
he  returned  their  salutations  with  feigned  good 
humor.  Their  joy  at  having  at  last  caught  this 
renowned  Indian-fighter  was  unbounded,  and  those 
Shawnees  from  whom  he  and  Stewart  had  escaped 
on  a  dark  night  eight  years  before  slapped  him  on 
the  back  with  satisfaction. 

They  told  him  that  they  intended  to  attack  and 
burn  Boonesborough,  but  that  they  wished  him 
first  to  lead  them  to  his  salt-makers  and  their  camp. 
Knowing  Indian  nature  as  well  as  he  did,  Boone 
felt  sure  that  when  the  savages  once  had  these  men 
in  their  power,  they  would  be  so  elated  that  they 
would  want  to  postpone  the  assault  upon  the  settle- 

M 


1 62  DANIEL  BOONE 

ment  and  return  in  triumph  to  parade  their  captives 
in  their  villages  beyond  the  Ohio.     Boone  beheved 
that  the  surrender  of  his  comrades  would  save 
Boonesborough,   for   a   time   at   least.     The   wily 
Shawnees  promised  to  treat  the  settlers  kindly, 
and  Boone  agreed  that  he  and  his  men  would  be 
docile.     He  suggested  that,  after  they  had  spent 
the  winter  together,  they  might  return  to  the  settle- 
ments and  bear  off  the  women,  girls,  and  boys,  and 
either  become  adopted  children  of  the  Indians  or  sur- 
render themselves  to  the  British  governor,  Hamilton, 
at  Detroit,  who  was  offering  £20  for  each  American 
prisoner  dehvered  to  him  ahve  and  well.     The  colo- 
nists called  Hamilton  ''the  hair-buying  general.'' 
These  suggestions,  of  course,  were  pure  strategy  on 
Boone's  part  to  put  off  the  fatal  day  for  the  families 
at  Boonesborough  as  long  as  possible.     Perhaps, 
while  the  winter  was  passing,  help  from  Virginia 
would  come. 

The  next  day  Boone  led  the  Indians  through  the 
snow-draped  forest  to  his  salt-makers,  who  were 
persuaded  that  the  sacrifice,  which  their  leader 
asked  of  them,  was  necessary.  For  two  hours  the 
Indians  haggled  in  council  concerning  the  prisoners, 
as  some  of  the  braves,  in  spite  of  promises  of  kind- 
ness, wanted  to  torture  them  to  death  or  burn  them 
at  the  stake.     Boone's  assuring  address  to  them, 


BOONE  BECOMES  AN  INDIAN  163 

which  a  negro  named  Pompey  interpreted,  and  the 
advice  of  Chief  Black  Fish,  persuaded  the  savages 
to  save  the  white  men  for  the  British  governor's 
money.  Accordingly,  the  camp  equipment  was 
packed  on  horses,  the  salt  destroyed,  and  the 
settlers  ^  marched  'away  northward  to  the  Ohio, 
through  heavy  snow  and  biting  cold.  With  despair 
they  thought  of  their  wasted  salt,  so  greatly  needed, 
and  each  bushel  worth  in  itself  a  cow  and  calf  and 
considerable  Colonial  money. 

What  a  terrible  journey  they  experienced !  Ex- 
tremely cold  weather  prevailed,  and  game  was  so 
scarce  that  the  Indians  were  obliged  to  kill  some  of 
their  dogs  and  horses  or  subsist  on  slippery  elm 
bark.  They  kept  their  prisoners  as  well  fed  as 
possible,  as  they  wished  to  present  healthy  speci- 
mens of  manhood  to  Governor  Hamilton,  and  so 
be  assured  of  their  reward.  For  ten  days  they 
struggled  through  the  drifted  trails.  They  crossed 
the  Ohio  in  a  raft  made  of  buffalo  hides,  and  came 
at  last  to  the  "trace"  leading  to  the  Little  Miami 
River,  where  Shawnee  huts  and  wigwams  nestled 
in  the  snow. 

Great  excitement  prevailed  when  Chief  Black 
Fish  and  his  captives  entered  the  town  of  Little 

^The  captives  numbered  twenty-seven;  the  others  were  ab- 
sent from  the  camp,  hunting. 


1 64  DANIEL  BOONE 

Chillicothe.  All  the  Indians  and  their  squaws 
and  dogs  came  running  out  to  view  the  prisoners, 
and  Boone  proved  a  gracious  visitor,  realizing  that 
the  fate  of  his  comrades  depended  in  large  measure 
on  the  good  humor  in  which  he  kept  the  savages. 
The  pioneers  were  assigned  to  different  wigwams,  all 
more  or  less  smoky  and  ill-smelling,  and  were  fed 
with  the  Indians'  usual  winter  food  —  beans, 
hominy,  pumpkins,  corn,  and  game,  generally 
cooked  together  in  the  same  kettle.  Boone's 
comment  on  his  food  and  lodging  was  simply  that 
it  was  "not  so  good  as  I  could  desire  but  necessity 
made  everything  acceptable." 

The  Shawnees  dressed  in  usual  Indian  costume  — 
shirts,  coats  made  of  match-cloth,  leggings,  and 
moccasins.  They  wore  heavy  silver  plates  about 
their  arms,  above  and  below  their  elbows,  and 
often  jewels  in  their  noses.  The  squaws  did  not 
cut  the  rims  of  their  ears,  as  did  the  men,  but  they 
hung  great  silver  rings  in  them.  The  women  wore 
many  silver  brooches  pinned  to  their  undergar- 
ments, blankets,  and  leggings.  Painted  decora- 
tions, of  course,  were  common,  the  squaws  using 
only  spots  on  their  cheeks. 

The  Shawnees  entertained  their  guests  with  their 
usual  winter  pastimes.  By  day  there  was  hunting. 
Sometimes  in  the  evening  they  played  cards,  which 


BOONE  BECOMES  AN  INDIAN  165 

Indian  missionaries  said  the  French  had  taught 
them,  but  they  preferred  to  dance  and  sing.  Al- 
most every  night  they  danced  to  weird  sounds 
until  twelve  o'clock.  Their  chief  musical  instru- 
ment consisted  of  a  skin  stretched  over  a  keg.  This 
was  beaten  with  a  stick  by  one  musician,  while  an- 
other shook  a  gourd  filled  with  grains  of  corn. 

Soon  after  their  arrival  Boone  and  sixteen  of  his 
companions,  who  were  strong  and  well-built,  were 
adopted  into  the  tribe,  and  by  a  rather  severe  cere- 
mony were  supposed  to  be  changed  at  once  into  full- 
fledged  Shawnees,  enjoying  the  racket  and  slovenly 
life  of  a  wigwam.  The  hair  of  the  white  man's 
head  was  pulled  out,  except  a  tuft  on  the  crown, 
which  was  left  long  and  tied  with  ribbons.  He  was 
then  washed  and  rubbed  in  the  river  ''to  take  all 
his  white  blood  out,"  and  after  an  address  of  wel- 
come in  the  council,  he  was  painted  and  feasted 
in  elaborate,  savage  fashion. 

Just  how  many  of  these  initiation  details  Boone 
was  forced  to  undergo,  we  do  not  know.  History 
only  records  that  he  was  deemed  so  precious  and 
popular  a  captive  that  he  was  adopted  by  Chief 
Black  Fish  himself  and  christened  Sheltowee,  which 
meant  ''Big  Turtle."  He  entered  into  the  life  of 
his  new  "father"  and  "mother"  with  apparent 
pleasure  —  for  Boone  could  conceal  his  real  feelings 


1 66  DANIEL  BOONE 

as  well  as  a  genuine  Indian  —  and  gave  them  meat 
and  skins  with  mock  affection.  He  watched  his 
'' father"  and  the  other  warriors,  endeavoring  to 
learn  all  their  arts  and  ways,  for  he  knew  that  some 
day  he  must  try  to  escape  and  make  his  way  back 
alone  to  save  the  settlement  which  was  as  dear  to 
him  as  a  child. 

When  contests  were  held,  he  concealed  his  own 
skill.  He  did  not  want  the  savages  to  gauge  his 
ability  nor  to  become  jealous  of  him.  Some  of  his 
comrades,  however,  were  less  tactful  in  their  rela- 
tions with  their  captors  and  suffered  many  punish- 
ments in  consequence.  The  most  severe  were 
whipping  and  running  the  gantlet.  For  the  latter 
performance,  the  Indians  formed  two  lines  five  or 
six  feet  apart,  and  ordered  their  prisoner  to  run 
between  them,  while  they  belabored  him  with 
clubs,  tomahawks,  and  switches.  Early  in  Boone's 
captivity  he  had  been  subjected  to  this  ordeal,  but 
as  a  test  of  his  prowess  rather  than  as  a  punishment, 
and  by  artfully  dodging  and  butting  with  his  head, 
he  had  escaped  with  little  harm.  For  some,  this 
proved  a  disastrous  or  even  fatal  experience. 

Toward  the  last  of  March  the  salt-makers  of 
Boonesborough  were  marched  off  by  Black  Fish  and 
by  many  braves  and  squaws  to  Governor  Hamilton 
at  Detroit  for  the  promised  ransom.     The  arrival 


BOONE  BECOMES  AN  INDIAN  167 

of  so  famous  a  Colonial  fighter  as  Daniel  Boone 
was  welcomed  by  the  EngUsh  official,  who  sent  for 
him  at  once.     Now  Boone  could  be  as  crafty  as 
any  one  —  and  he  did  not  hesitate  to  try  his  cun- 
ning with  this  representative  of  the  EngUsh  king. 
He  always  wore  about  his  neck  a  little  leather  bag 
containing  his  commission  as  captain  in  the  British 
forces  in  Lord  Dunmore's  War.     Boone  handed 
this  to  the  governor,  at  the  same  time  repeating  his 
former  promise  to  the  Indians  to  surrender  Boones- 
borough  in  the  spring.     Governor  Hamilton  was 
deceived  by  Boone's  simpHcity  into  believing  that 
this  quiet  backwoodsman  was  still  in  sympathy  with 
King  George  across  the  sea.     He  was  so  pleased 
with  Boone  that  he  offered  £100  to  Black  Fish  in 
ransom,  but  the  ''foster  father,"  counting  upon 
Boone's  services  as  guide  to  the  Kentucky  settle- 
ments, cunningly  said  that  he  loved  his  ''son"  too 
much  to  sell  him.     So  the  governor  sent  them  away, 
giving  Boone  a  pony,  saddle,  bridle,  and  blanket, 
and  a  string  of  silver  trinkets  to  be  used  as  money 
among  his  Indian  "brothers." 

Meanwhile,  five  hundred  warriors  —  Mingos, 
Delawares,  and  Shawnees  —  had  gathered  in  Chilh- 
cothe,  decked  out  in  war  gear  and  full  of  plans  for 
the  raid  into  Kentucky  soon  to  be  made.  Boone 
listened  to  their  chatter  at  the  fires.     From  the  few 


l68  DANIEL  BOONE 

Shawnee  words  which  he  had  learned,  he  gathered 
their  purpose  in  full.  They  intended  to  sweep 
through  Kentucky  County  and  destroy  Boones- 
borough.  With  a  sinking  of  his  heart,  he  heard  the 
terrible  news.  Now  must  he  rise  to  the  noblest  in 
him;  now,  if  ever,  was  the  time  for  him  to  save 
his  people.  Could  he  do  it?  One  lone  settler 
against  five  hundred  savages  and  a  wilderness? 

On  the  1 6th  of  June  he  escaped.  Just  how  he 
got  away  no  one  knows.  One  story  says  that, 
having  made  ready  his  arms,  the  powder  and  bullets 
he  had  been  saving  for  four  months,  his  scalping- 
knife  and  moccasins,  he  asked  permission  to  go 
hunting,  and  so  sped  away.  Another  story  says 
that,  while  he  was  boiling  salt  for  his  '' father," 
Black  Fish,  a  flock  of  wild  turkeys  absorbed  the 
attention  of  his  keepers,  and  he  chose  that  moment 
to  slip  into  the  forest.  However  he  escaped,  he 
began  to  run  at  once  with  all  possible  speed  and 
strength  southward.  At  any  moment  the  Indians 
might  miss  him  and  follow. 

Every  trick  known  to  the  forest  hunter  he  used 
to  conceal  or  confuse  his  course.  He  circled  in  his 
path,  set  blind  and  false  trails,  waded  in  water, 
swam  streams,  although  he  was  a  poor  swimmer. 
Hope  and  fear  impelled  him  ever  onward  by  day 
and  night.     He  was  hungry ;  he  was  tired  and  sore 


BOONE  BECOMES  AN  INDIAN  169 

and  bleeding  with  many  bruises.  But  what  was 
his  own  comfort  or  distress  at  such  a  time?  He, 
Daniel  Boone,  was  out  to  race  with  death  —  death, 
which,  if  it  overtook  him,  would  also  claim  his 
people. 

For  two  days  he  ate  nothing.  He  dared  not  stop ; 
he  dared  not  kill  game,  for  fear  of  his  pursuers 
or  of  chance  Indians  camping  in  the  forest.  At 
Blue  Licks,  on  the  third  day,  he  ate  a  bit  of  buffalo 
meat  —  and  then  he  was  up  and  off  again,  hasten- 
ing, tattered  and  exhausted,  to  his  settlement. 

On  the  evening  of  the  fourth  day,  or  the  morning 
of  the  fifth,  after  he  had  run  one  hundred  and  sixty 
miles  through  the  wilderness,  he  staggered  into 
Boonesborough,  and  shouted  to  the  settlers  his 
precious  warning  — 

"Indians!  Finish  your  stockade!"  and  sank 
down. 

'^Big  Turtle"  was  no  more  —  but  Daniel  Boone, 
noble  and  self-sacrificing,  was  safe  and  sound. 
And  so  was  Boonesborough. 


CHAPTER  XVI 

The  Siege  of  the  Shawnees 

With  cries  of  joy  and  intense  relief,  the  despairing 
settlers  rushed  across  the  inclosure  toward  the  gate 
in  which  their  exhausted  leader  appeared,  like  one 
arisen  from  the  dead.  They  helped  him  to  a  cabin 
and  there  fed  him  and  dressed  his  wounds,  and 
showered  him  with  questions.  Where  had  he 
been  these  four  long  months?  How  did  he  make 
his  way  back?  Did  the  Indians  chase  him? 
When  would  they  attack  the  settlement  ?  What 
had  happened  to  the  other  salt-makers?  Were 
they  all  alive  and  well  ? 

They  told  him  of  their  great  distress  when  the 
empty  salt-camp  had  been  found,  and  of  their  grief 
as  days  slipped  by  and  not  one  of  the  salt-makers 
came  home.  Twenty-seven  was  a  large  number  to 
vanish  in  a  moment  from  the  little  fort.  Day  after 
day  they  had  waited  in  vain  for  news,  and  many, 
completely  discouraged  in  their  bereavement  and 
reduced  to  abject  poverty,  had  packed  up  in  the 
spring  and  sadly  left  Boonesborough  to  return  to 
relatives  in  the  East. 

170 


THE  SIEGE  OF  THE  SHAWNEES  171 

And  Mrs.  Boone  and  the  children?  Perhaps 
Boone  sensed  his  loss  as  he  neared  Boonesborough 
and  so  in  a  way  was  prepared  for  the  news  that  his 
wife  and  his  girls  and  boys  —  except  Jemima,  who 
had  married  Richard  Calloway,  her  rescuer  from 
the  Indians  —  had  gone  to  the  Bryan  homestead 
in  the  Yadkin  Valley.  In  spite  of  her  great  faith 
in  her  husband's  ability,  his  long  absence  convinced 
Rebecca  that  at  last  the  savages  had  outwitted  him, 
and  that  he  had  suffered  death  in  the  forest,  as  had 
her  boy.  Bravely,  but  bowed  with  a  widow's 
grief,  she  had  made  ready  to  go  to  her  old  home,  over 
the  forest  road  which  her  husband  had  blazed  and 
which  he  and  she  had  traveled  together  with  high 
hopes.  Boone  longed  to  follow  her,  to  comfort 
her  and  to  be  comforted,  but  he  knew  that  for  the 
present  he  must  stay  in  the  wilderness  and  fight 
for  Boonesborough.  Let  us  hope  that  Jemima 
Boone  Calloway  took  her  lonely  father  into  her 
new  home  and  made  him  happy. 

Busy  times  followed  Boone's  arrival.  He 
ordered  the  men  at  once  to  repair  and  complete  the 
fortress  which,  in  spite  of  danger,  had  been 
neglected,  and  in  ten  days  all  was  secure  and  ready 
for  the  onslaught  of  the  foe.  Boone  sent  to  the 
Holston  settlements  in  Virginia  for  help,  and  kept 
spies  scouting  the  country  to  warn  the  settlement 


172  DANIEL  BOONE 

of  the  savages'  approach.  But  no  Indians  were 
discovered ;  they  appeared  to  have  postponed 
their  attack. 

In  the  summer  came  news  that  Black  Fish  and 
his  warriors  were  again  Hstening  to  the  entreaties  of 
Governor  Hamilton  to  attack  ^'the  rebels  of  Ken- 
tuck."  Boone  concluded  that  it  might  be  well  to 
alarm  the  Indians  by  appearing  suddenly  in  their 
country  as  if  he  and  his  intrepid  men  were  part  of 
a  great  force  in  readiness  to  attack  the  Indian 
towns,  instead  of  the  mere  handful  of  seventy-five 
*'guns"  there,  including  men,  boys,  and  certain 
women  fighters.  In  the  middle  of  August,  Boone, 
Simon  Kenton,  and  nineteen  sharpshooters  pene- 
trated to  Paint  Creek,  not  far  from  Chillicothe, 
where  they  came  upon  thirty  Shawnees,  travehng 
to  join  the  great  war  party  under  Black  Fish.  The 
settlers  charged  them  with  success.  The  Indians 
fled,  leaving  behind  as  booty  their  horses  and  bag- 
gage. Boone  wheeled  at  once  and  made  off  for 
the  fort,  and  luckily,  too,  for  had  he  continued  his 
progress  he  would  have  met  the  warriors  under 
Black  Fish,  on  their  southward  advance.  The 
heavy  gates  of  Boonesborough  closed  upon  the 
gallant  little  band  only  a  few  hours  before  four 
hundred  Shawnee  warriors,  the  largest  army  ever 
gathered  to  make  war  upon  the  tiny  settlement, 


THE  SIEGE  OF  THE  SHAWNEES  173 

encamped  among  the  trees  and  bushes  along  the  river 
bank  near  the  fort.  They  came  in  the  evening  and 
the  uneasy  pioneers  passed  another  sleepless  night. 

Betimes  the  next  morning,  every  porthole  was 
filled  with  settlers  eager  for  a  glimpse  of  the  savage 
enemies.  If  torture  and  slow  death  had  not  faced 
them,  they  might  have  found  pleasure  in  the  pic- 
turesque sight.  Through  the  little  openings  they 
could  see  feathered  scalp-locks  and  half-naked 
bodies,  fantastically  painted.  Governor  Hamilton 
kept  the  Indians  supplied  with  the  paint  they  so 
dearly  prized.  In  his  report  for  this  very  Sep- 
tember, he  said  that  among  the  goods  received  by  him 
for  the  Indian  department  were  "eighty  pounds 
of  rose-pink  and  five  hundred  pounds  of  vermilion." 

These  gorgeous  warriors  were  commanded  by 
Black  Fish,  assisted  by  the  veteran  fighters,  Black 
Bird,  Black  Hoof,  and  Moluntha,  and  also  a  French- 
Canadian  of  the  Detroit  militia.  Under  the  latter 
were  forty  French-Canadians  who  had  brought 
with  them  their  British  and  French  colors  and  were 
flying  them  derisively  before  the  fort.  When  the 
garrison  discovered  the  militia,  trained  in  war 
tactics  such  as  no  Indian  knew,  their  fear  was 
redoubled.  Now  indeed  might  their  stockade  fall 
before  the  well-planned  attack  of  genuine  fighting- 
men. 


174  DANIEL  BOONE 

The  settlers  looked  and  waited  in  suspense. 
They  expected  the  savages  to  assail  them  at  once, 
but  no  hostile  demonstration  occurred.  Instead, 
an  armed  messenger  of  the  Indians,  who  spoke 
English,  stepped  from  the  thick  covert  and  ad- 
vanced toward  the  fort,  bearing  a  white  flag  of 
truce  which  fluttered  in  the  breeze. 

Mounting  a  stump  before  one  of  the  blockhouses, 
he  cried,  ^'Holloa!" 

The  prolonged  call  echoed  and  then  died  away 
among  the  trees.  No  answer  came  from  the  fort. 
Why  should  the  little  garrison  betray  by  haste  any 
undue  concern  in  the  movements  of  its  tawny  foes  ? 

^'Holloa!"  cried  the  messenger  again,  and  then 
some  one  in  the  blockhouse  answered. 

The  truce-bearer  said  that  he  had  letters  to 
Captain  Boone  from  Governor  Hamilton  and  that 
the  Indian  chiefs  desired  to  talk  over  the  con- 
tents with  him.  Boone  gladly  welcomed  any  pro- 
ceedings which  would  delay  hostilities,  as  the  help 
from  Virginia  might  arrive  at  any  time.  He  con- 
sented, but  only  on  condition  that  the  Indian 
representatives  should  come  unarmed  and  that  the 
letters  should  be  discussed  under  the  guns  of  the 
fort.  Black  Fish  agreed,  and  came  with  Lieutenant 
De  Quindre  and  Moluntha,  bringing  the  letters 
and  seven  roasted  buffalo  tongues  as  a  token  of 


THE  SIEGE  OF  THE  SHAWNEES  175 

good  faith.  The  starving  settlers  mightily  en- 
joyed the  meat.  Daniel  Boone,  Richard  Calloway, 
Senior,  and  William  Bailey  Smith,  carrying  only  a 
pipe  and  a  white  handkerchief,  met  the  chiefs  and 
the  French-Canadian  officer  —  an  embarrassing 
meeting  for  Boone  and  his  Indian  ^'father." 

In  the  letters  Governor  Hamilton  ordered  Boone 
*'to  surrender  the  fort  in  the  name  of  his  Britannic 
Majesty,"  at  the  same  time  offering  terms  so  liberal 
that  he  felt  assured  they  would  move  the  settlers 
to  welcome  release  from  their  hardships.  Black 
Fish  himself  said  that  '^he  had  come  to  take  the 
people  away  easily,  that  he  had  brought  along 
forty  horses  for  the  old  folks,  women,  and  children 
to  ride." 

Boone  replied  that  he  could  not  answer  these 
propositions  without  consulting  his  men,  and 
formally  begged  for  a  two  days'  truce.  Thus 
Boone  arranged  for  another  precious  delay. 

Of  course,  the  plucky  pioneers  flatly  refused  to 
yield  to  the  overtures  of  ^'the  hair-buying  general." 
In  spite  of  the  gloomy  outlook,  they  were  en- 
couraged by  the  preparations  of  the  Indians  for 
transporting  a  large  band  of  prisoners  to  Detroit. 
Evidently  the  savages  had  no  knowledge  of  their 
small  numbers  and  real  weakness.  They  voted  to 
a  man  to  decline  the  offer  and  to  continue  to  pray 


176  DANIEL  BOONE 

that  Virginia's  aid  would  come  in  time  to  save  them. 
They  at  once  set  to  work  to  make  the  most  of  the 
two  days'  truce.  They  molded  bullets,  cleaned 
rifles,  apportioned  powder,  gathered  vegetables, 
drew  water  from  the  spring  outside  the  fort  under 
cover  of  darkness,  cooked  extra  food,  brought  in 
their  cattle,  inspected  the  stockade,  and  rehearsed 
their  plans  and  orders  for  carrying  on  a  protracted 
siege.  The  Indians  meanwhile  spent  two  lazy 
days  before  the  fort,  confident  of  success. 

At  the  proper  hour  the  white  flag  was  again 
brought  out,  and  Black  Fish  and  his  supporters 
advanced  through  the  evening  dusk  to  the  fort. 
Captain  Boone  had  taken  his  position  in  one  of  the 
bastions  and,  when  the  chief  was  standing  below 
him  in  motionless  Indian  fashion,  he  announced 
the  decision  of  the  little  garrison. 

''We  are  determined,"  he  said,  ''to  defend  the 
fort  while  a  man  is  living." 

Black  Fish  was  astonished !  It  is  said  that  he 
wept  copiously  over  such  a  thankless  answer  from 
one  whom  he  had  made  his  "son,"  but  without 
doubt  the  tears  were  shed  for  dramatic  effect. 
Neither  Black  Fish  nor  the  other  commanders  had 
supposed  for  a  moment  that  the  settlers  would  offer 
further  resistance.  They  were  firm,  however; 
another  stratagem  must  be  tried. 


THE  SIEGE  OF  THE  SHAWNEES  177 

Lieutenant  De  Quindre  then  took  the  floor.  He 
said  that  the  British  governor  had  ordered  them  to 
avoid  bloodshed,  and  if  the  settlers  would  sign  a 
treaty  swearing  allegiance  to  Great  Britain,  he 
and  all  his  Indians  would  leave  them  quietly  and 
in  full  possession  of  their  fort.  Would  not  nine 
representatives  meet  with  him  for  the  purpose  of 
drawing  up  such  a  treaty?  If  the  garrison  would 
consent  to  so  simple  a  matter,  the  whole  affair 
might  be  quickly  settled  and  peace  return. 

Although  Boone's  intuition  warned  him  that  the 
Indians  meant  treachery,  he  acquiesced,  as  the 
proceedings  would  postpone  open  warfare  yet 
again.  Early  the  next  morning,  he  and  eight 
others  from  the  fort  joined  De  Quindre,  Black  Fish, 
Black  Bird,  Black  Hoof,  and  Moluntha,  under  the 
great  elm  in  the  hollow.  They  were  seated  on 
panther  skins  and  deerskins  and  invited  to  smoke, 
drink,  and  eat,  while  the  warriors  sat  about  them 
on  the  ground.  Every  man,  woman,  and  child  of 
the  garrison  was  doing  picket  duty  and  peering 
through  all  available  openings,  anxiously  and  per- 
haps enviously,  since  their  leaders  were  enjoying  a 
good  meal  at  the  expense  of  the  British  government. 
They  were  ready  to  open  fire  upon  the  Indians  at 
a  given  signal,  the  waving  of  a  hat,  should  trouble 
arise.     This  powwow  lasted  throughout  the  day. 

N 


1 78  DANIEL  BOONE 

By  evening  the  pioneers  had  agreed  to  sign  a  treaty 
the  following  day,  promising  to  fly  a  British  flag 
above  their  fort  as  a  symbol  of  their  loyalty  to  the 
British  Crown. 

Stealthily  through  the  woods  that  night,  quite 
unsuspected  by  the  settlers,  crept  a  detail  of  the 
Indians  who  secreted  themselves  behind  trees  and 
in  the  undergrowth  about  the  hollow.  In  the  morn- 
ing Boone  and  his  companions  accompanied  Black 
Fish  to  a  table  under  the  historic  elm,  unconscious 
of  the  savage  eyes  intent  upon  them,  although  the 
garrison  on  the  hill  was  ready  for  any  emergency. 
The  treaty  was  signed  in  mock  sincerity,  and  then 
Black  Fish  casually  remarked,  "Now  a  hand  shake 
all  around  to  confirm  this  treaty,  two  braves  to  each 
white  brother." 

But  the  Indians  betrayed  themselves.  They 
grasped  the  hands  offered  them  so  tightly  that  the 
shrewd  settlers  knew  their  purpose  in  an  instant. 
They  intended  to  drag  the  white  men  toward  the 
bushes  where  the  concealed  warriors  would  seize 
them.  Quickly  freeing  himself,  Boone  w^aved  his 
hat,  and  as  the  nine  commissioners  sprang  from 
their  captors,  the  riflemen  in  the  fort  fired  down 
upon  the  treacherous  enemies  in  the  hollow.  The 
settlers  rushed  up  the  hill  with  all  speed,  shielding 
themselves  from  the  red  men's  bullets  by  trees  and 


THE  SIEGE  OF  THE  SHAWNEES  179 

stumps.  Squire  Boone  and  one  other  were  slightly 
wounded,  but  all  eventually  reached  the  fort,  and 
once  again  Boone  heard  with  a  thankful  heart  the 
creaking  of  the  lumbering  gate  as  it  closed  upon  his 
foes. 

The  pioneers  now  wondered  what  would  happen 
next.  They  knew  ere  long.  During  the  afternoon 
and  the  next  morning,  sounds  of  breaking  camp,  of 
bugle  calls,  and  of  horses  splashing  in  the  river,  were 
borne  up  to  them;  and,  as  time  wore  on,  these 
sounds  grew  ever  fainter  and  more  distant  until 
they  ceased.  Apparently,  the  Indians  had  given 
up  the  controversy  and  were  going  home.  It  was  a 
trick,  however,  to  entice  the  settlers  into  the  open. 
Somehow  they  detected  it  and  kept  securely  within 
their  stockade.  Instead  of  marching  northward 
toward  the  Shawnee  region,  the  Indians  were 
circling  far  about  Boonesborough  to  re-cross  the 
Kentucky  River  later,  and  conceal  themselves  in  a 
different  part  of  the  woods,  this  time  near  the  path 
to  the  stockade.  They  accomphshed  their  detour 
quickly,  only  to  find  Boonesborough  serene  and 
quiet  and  with  no  one  stirring  outside  its  walls. 
Thoroughly  indignant  that  their  ruse  had  failed, 
they  swarmed  about  in  the  bushes  near  the  fort, 
and  from  under  cover  of  the  trees  rained  bullets 
thick  and  fast  upon  the  walls.     That  night  the 


i8o  DANIEL  BOONE 

settlers  could  see  many  camp  fires  glowing  in  the 
forest  darkness  and  they  realized  that  at  last  the 
siege  was  begun. 

Spurred  on  by  the  French-Canadian  officers,  the 
Indians  fought  from  September  8  to  September  17, 
battering  at  the  palisades  with  a  persistence  unusual 
to  savages.  They  shot  from  trees  and  logs,  from 
stumps  and  hillocks,  from  under  cover  of  the  river 
bank,  and  from  the  hills  above  the  fort.  Bullets 
poured  into  the  inclosure  from  all  sides  and  the 
ensuing  hubbub  was  almost  maddening.  Dogs 
howled;  cattle  bellowed  and  plunged  in  fright; 
girls  and  sometimes  women,  overwrought  with 
long  anxiety  and  hunger,  cried  and  screamed ; 
burning  faggots,  thrown  by  the  Indians,  hissed  and 
crackled;  the  leaders  gave  orders  sharply  above 
the  din ;  Indians  yelled  and  whooped ;  and  all  the 
while  muskets  rattled  and  the  river  gorge  echoed 
and  reechoed  with  the  firing  and  clamor. 

The  siege  was  one  of  the  most  remarkable  ever 
waged  by  savages,  and  would  have  been  even  more 
unusual  if  Lieutenant  De  Quindre  had  been  able 
to  force  his  Indian  army  to  carry  out  all  of  his 
plans.  If  he  could  have  induced  them  to  form  and 
make  a  charge,  according  to  European  tactics,  the 
little  fortress  would  have  fallen  almost  immediately. 
Failing  in  this  device,  the  white  officer  set  a  detail 


THE  SIEGE  OF  THE  SHAWNEES  i8i 

of  Indians  to  dig  a  mine  through  which  they  might 
penetrate  to  the  fort,  either  for  the  purpose  of 
blowing  it  up  or  for  capturing  it  through  an  under- 
ground passage.  The  other  savages  continued 
to  fire  incessantly  in  order  to  conceal  the  new  work. 

Some  keen-eyed  settler,  however,  noticed  that 
the  water  of  the  river  appeared  muddy,  as  if  earth 
were  being  thrown  into  it,  and  Boone,  at  once  sur- 
mising the  cause,  ordered  some  of  his  men  to  begin 
a  trench  which  would  cut  into  the  enemy's  mine. 
He  ordered  others  to  build  a  watch-tower  from 
which  they  might  overlook  the  hostile  army's 
proceedings.  The  tower  was  erected  on  the  cabin 
which  had  been  Henderson's  kitchen,  and  under- 
neath this  house  the  pioneers  began  to  dig  their 
tunnel,  about  three  feet  wide  and  fairly  deep ;  it 
passed  beneath  various  other  cabins  along  the  river. 
While  men  above  them  watched,  the  diggers  worked 
with  might  and  main  in  excessive  September  heat. 
A  prolonged  rain  soon  came,  to  the  relief  of  the 
garrison  as  well  as  to  those  underground. 

On  Sunday  night,  after  the  settlers  had  been 
harassed  for  a  week  by  the  besiegers,  they  suddenly 
discovered  that  their  enemies  were  throwing  Hghted 
arrows  and  flaring  torches  upon  the  roofs  of  their 
cabins  in  an  attempt  to  fire  the  stockade.  The 
men  examined  the  missiles  which  failed  to  burn,  and 


1 82  DANIEL  BOONE 

discovered  that  they  were  wound  with  the  oily  fiber 
of  hickory  nuts,  and  with  flax,  stolen  from  some 
cabin.  Had  it  not  been  for  the  rain,  Boones- 
borough  would  soon  have  been  a  blazing  pile,  as  the 
water  within  the  fort  was  too  low  for  fire-fighting. 
Happily,  the  timbers  were  so  wet  that  the  blazing 
brands  burned  themselves  out  with  little  effect. 

Meanwhile,  the  pioneers  continued  to  dig  and  the 
Indians  continued  to  dig  —  and  ever  nearer  one 
another  white  men  and  savages  made  their  slow  way 
underground.  Boone  wanted  the  enemies  to  know 
that  the  settlers  also  were  planning  a  mine,  and 
ordered  the  earth  from  the  tunnel  to  be  thrown  over 
the  side  of  the  fort  in  full  sight  of  the  army.  As  the 
unseen  savages  approached  the  walls,  they  and 
the  pioneers  sometimes  ridiculed  one  another  good- 
naturedly. 

Mr.  Ranck  says  that  an  old  hunter  would  yell 
from  the  battery  in  the  Shawnee  tongue  to  the 
Indians  on  the  river  bank  below,  ^'What  are  you 
red  rascals  doing  down  there?" 

''Digging!"  would  be  the  answer.  "Blow  you 
all  to  smash  soon!     What  you  do?" 

' '  We  ? ' '  the  settlers  would  reply.  "We  are  digging 
to  meet  you  and  intend  to  bury  five  hundred  of 
you." 

So  work  went  on  until  the  1 5th  of  September,  when 


THE  SIEGE  OF  THE  SHAWNEES  183 

the  Indians  had  come  so  near  the  fort  that  their 
voices  and  the  cUck  of  their  tools  beneath  the  grass 
could  be  heard  by  the  settlers.  In  terror,  men 
and  women  aHke  awaited  the  end  which  seemed  at 
hand.  They  waited,  wan  with  little  sleep  and 
scanty  food,  and  upon  them  and  their  doomed 
cabins  a  heavy  rain  fell.  The  stormy  night  which 
followed  was  so  dark  and  windy  that  they  could 
neither  see  nor  hear  any  movements  outside  their 
walls.  Now  and  then  a  flash  of  lightning  startled 
them,  but  otherwise  this  tiny  band  was  encom- 
passed with  pitchy  darkness  in  the  midst  of  the 
wilderness,  beset  by  savages,  and  cut  off  from  all 
the  world.  Yet  even  on  so  terrible  a  night  no  one 
was  willing  to  surrender. 

Dawn  came  at  last,  followed  by  a  clear,  blue 
morning,  and  the  road  about  the  Httle  fort  lay 
quiet  in  the  sunshine.  The  settlers  bestirred  them- 
selves and  looked  at  one  another.  To  their  aston- 
ishment they  all  were  alive  and  well,  and  their 
cabins  were  still  standing  in  the  stockade.  After 
all,  nothing  had  happened  during  those  long  and 
awful  hours  of  the  previous  night,  and  now  no 
sound  of  the  foe  came  to  them  from  underground. 
In  the  direction  of  the  trail,  they  heard  the  Indians 
and  their  horses  moving  about,  but  even  those 
distant  noises  soon  ceased.     What  did  it  mean? 


1 84  DANIEL  BOONE 

Scouts  ventured  out,  and  by  noon  sped  back  with 
the  news  that  the  savages  were  in  full  retreat  — 
news  which  seemed  almost  too  good  to  be  true. 
The  rain  had  proved  providential.  It  had  caused 
the  red  men's  tunnel,  upon  which  they  had  worked 
with  constancy  uncommon  to  Indians,  to  cave  in, 
and  without  doubt  the  savages  had  determined 
then  and  there  to  go  home,  rebelHng  against  their 
white  leader's  orders  to  begin  anew. 

With  profound  gratitude  the  pioneers  faced  Kfe 
once  more.  The  heavy  gates  swung  in  upon  their 
hinges  and  stood  open.  The  few  remaining  cattle 
—  nearly  all  had  been  slaughtered  for  food  —  were 
driven  outside  the  walls  to  taste  green  grass  again. 
Men  and  women  hurried  at  once  to  the  spring  and, 
standing  in  the  noontide  brightness,  drank  long 
and  gratefully.  Was  anything  sweeter  or  more 
refreshing  than  a  draught  of  cold  water? 

Boone  and  his  men  examined  the  exterior  of  the 
walls  and  searched  the  battlefield  about  the  fort, 
rehearsing  the  plans  and  movements  of  the  enemy. 
They  found  that  about  one  hundred  pounds  of 
bullets  had  been  fired  into  the  timbers  of  a  single 
blockhouse  —  how  much  had  been  lodged  in  the 
fortress  as  a  whole  could  not  be  judged  —  and  one 
hundred  and  twenty-five  pounds  of  bullets  were 
picked   up   from    the   surrounding   ground.     The 


THE  SIEGE  OF  THE  SHAWNEES  185 

pioneers  were  amazed  that  they  had  been  able  to 
withstand  such  an  onslaught  with  so  little  loss. 
Only  two  of  their  number  had  been  killed  and  four 
wounded.  The  Indian  casualties,  they  reckoned, 
must  have  reached  thirty-seven  killed  and  many 
wounded. 

"  A  dreadful  siege  "  it  had  been,  as  Boone  said, 
*' which  threatened  death  in  every  form."  Its 
end  had  come  and  never  again  was  Boonesborough 
assailed. 

Within  a  few  days  eighty  men  arrived  from  the 
Holston  settlements,  and  with  this  reenf  or  cement 
the  pioneers  bravely  sallied  forth  into  the  Indians' 
own  towns,  endeavoring  to  avenge  raids  and  mur- 
ders which  occurred  from  time  to  time  in  the 
county.  Boone  said  in  his  old  age  that  the  Shaw- 
nees  had  been  fooUsh  to  show  him  and  his  twenty- 
seven  salt-makers  the  way  to  their  country. 

As  Boone  was  recovering  from  the  strain  of  the 
siege  and  laying  pleasant  plans  to  join  his  family, 
he  suffered  a  cruel  and  unnecessary  experience. 
During  his  captivity  at  ChilHcothe,  disputes  con- 
cerning the  leadership  of  Boonesborough  had  arisen 
among  the  officers.  Colonel  Calloway  was  the 
highest  officer  in  rank,  but  Major  W.  B.  Smith 
claimed  that  he  had  been  appointed  commander 
of  the  fort  in  Boone's  capacity.     Colonel  Calloway 


i86  DANIEL  BOONE 

resented  this  and,  when  Boone  had  again  assumed 
command,  was  ready  to  criticise  his  methods  of 
dealing  with  the  Indians.  When  peace  was 
assured,  he  turned  against  his  former  friend  and 
charged  him  with  treason.  He  claimed  that  Boone 
had  favored  the  British  rather  than  the  settlers  in 
his  actions  with  the  Shawnees  and  during  the  siege, 
and  in  consequence  should  forfeit  his  commission 
in  the  miUtia  of  Kentucky  County.  The  simple- 
hearted  backwoodsman,  who  had  all  but  given  his 
life  for  his  people,  was  hurt  and  bewildered. 

He  was  summoned  before  a  court-martial  at 
Logan's  Fort,  where  the  four  charges  following 
were  brought  against  him  by  the  colonel : 

*'i.  That  Boone  had  taken  out  twenty-six  men 
(referring  only  to  the  twenty-seven  captives)  to 
make  salt  at  the  Blue  Licks,  and  the  Indians  had 
caught  him  trapping  for  beaver  ten  miles  below 
on  Licking,  and  he  voluntarily  surrendered  his 
men  at  the  Licks  to  the  enemy. 

*'  2.  That  while  a  prisoner,  he  engaged  with  Gov- 
ernor Hamilton  to  surrender  the  people  of  Boones- 
borough  to  be  removed  to  Detroit,  and  Uve  under 
British  protection  and  jurisdiction. 

''3.  That  returning  from  captivity,  he  encour- 
aged a  party  of  men  to  accompany  him  to  the  Paint 
Lick  Town,  weakening  the  garrison  at  a  time  when 


THE  SIEGE  OF  THE  SHAWNEES  187 

the  arrival  of  an  Indian  army  was  daily  expected 
to  attack  the  fort. 

''4.  That  preceding  the  attack  on  Boones- 
borough,  he  was  willing  to  take  the  officers  of  the 
fort,  on  pretense  of  making  peace,  to  the  Indian 
camp,  beyond  the  protection  of  the  guns  of  the 
garrison." 

In  the  wilderness  in  general  there  was  little  doubt 
of  Boone's  unswerving  lo3^alty  and  devotion  to  the 
borderers,  and  innumerable  friends  at  once  rallied 
to  him  to  offer  encouragement  during  the  stress  of 
the  trial.  Defense  in  his  own  behalf  and  under 
the  circumstances  must  have  been  difficult  for  a 
man  Hke  Boone,  yet  he  answered  each  accusation 
at  length,  proving  without  the  slightest  doubt  that 
he  had  intended  to  serve  only  the  interests  of  his 
country.  He  said  that  he  had  surrendered  his 
salt-makers  and  given  promises  to  the  British 
governor  in  order  to  save  the  settlement,  and  that 
in  consequence  he  himself  had  been  able  to  warn 
the  fort  in  time.  His  trip  to  Paint  Lick  Town,  he 
said,  had  been  for  scouting  purposes  and  had 
resulted  in  no  evil ;  and  as  for  the  powwow,  which 
the  commissioners  had  held  with  Black  Fish  in  the 
hollow,  every  one  must  realize  that  that  had  been 
pure  strategy  to  gain  time.  The  faith  of  the  com- 
munities in  him  and  his  word  was  proved  by  his 


1 88  DANIEL  BOONE 

complete  vindication  and  by  the  new  honor  which 
was  at  once  conferred  on  him.  He  was  advanced 
to  the  rank  of  major,  and  with  the  good  wishes  and 
gratitude  of  all  but  a  few  enemies,  he  passed  from 
the  court-martial,  more  honored  and  appreciated 
than  ever  before. 

Soon  after,  he  swung  into  his  saddle  and  turned 
his  horse  into  the  road  eastward  —  his  road  to  the 
Yadkin  Valley. 

And  behind  him  nestled  Boonesborough  in  peace, 
its  gates  ajar. 


CHAPTER  XVII 
Public  Servant  and  Indian  Fighter 

"I  WENT  into  the  settlement,"  Boone  said  to 
Filson,  "and  nothing  worthy  of  notice  passed  for 
some  time." 

If  his  biographer  recorded  the  story  correctly, 
Boone  referred  lightly  to  an  interesting  and  im- 
portant period  of  his  life.  'Perhaps  his  return  to 
the  settlements  and  his  reunion  with  Rebecca  and 
the  children  were  such  dear  memories  that  he  pre- 
ferred to  keep  silent  about  them.  Until  he  rode 
into  the  Yadkin  Valley  and  appeared  at  father 
Bryan's  door,  Mrs.  Boone  supposed  him  sleep- 
ing in  some  far,  forest  grave.  No  news  of  him 
had  reached  her  since  that  cold  and  fatal  January 
when  he  had  encamped  at  Lower  Blue  Lick.  Al- 
most a  year  had  elapsed  —  and  once  again  she 
beheld   him,    like    a   spirit   from    another   world. 

What  he  did  during  the  twelvemonth  he  re- 
mained in  the  East,  we  do  not  know,  but  without 
doubt  he  shouldered  his  gun  many  times  and 
wandered  off  to  hunt  in  his  favorite  old  Yadkin 
haunts. 

189 


190  DANIEL  BOONE 

Meanwhile,  the  West,  which  Boone  had  helped 
to  found,  was  growing  fast,  but  not  without  opposi- 
tion from  raiding  Indian  war  bands  which  hovered 
in  the  outskirts  of  the  forest.  The  resources  be- 
yond the  mountains  in  Kentucky  County  lured 
many  backwoodsmen,  who  were  not  serving  in  the 
Colonial  army  on  the  coast,  westward,  where  by 
continual  warfare  they  kept  the  savages  from  pene- 
trating to  Eastern  settlements.  Like  Boone,  they 
played  a  definite  and  helpful  part  in  the  American 
Revolution.  So  many  traders,  hunters,  explorers, 
land  speculators,  and  surveyors  made  their  way 
thither  that  new  forts  and  stations  sprang  up  about 
Boonesborough,  and  the  emigrants  began  to  realize 
that  they  needed  a  form  of  government  whereby 
they  might  make  laws  and  improvements  for  the 
settlement. 

They  petitioned  the  Assembly  of  Virginia  to 
incorporate  the  place  and  give  them  a  ferry  across 
the  Kentucky  River.  Fording  the  stream  was 
uncertain  and  often  dangerous.  When  Boone  re- 
turned in  October,  he  brought  with  him  the  news 
that  the  Assembly  had  passed  "An  Act  for  estab- 
lishing the  town  of  Boonesborough  in  the  County 
of  Kentucky."  Thus  Boone's  former  tiny  colony 
in  the  wilderness  became  a  genuine  town,  the  first 
place  in  the  region  to  be  recognized  by  law  and 


PUBLIC  SERVANT  AND  INDI.AN  FIGHTER      191 

granted  special  rights  to  manage  its  own  affairs. 
The  town  site  was  designated  and  laid  out,  streets 
with  names  were  suggested,  and  six  hundred  and 
forty  acres  adjoining  the  town  were  set  off  by  the 
Virginia  Assembly  as  a  common.  Daniel  Boone 
was  appointed  a  trustee  but  declined  to  serve. 

The  town's  future  seemed  assured.  For  a  time 
it  grew,  but  some  strange  trick  of  circumstances 
prevented  it  from  becoming  important,  and  in  time 
it  wholly  disappeared.  To-day  there  is  no  vestige 
of  its  houses  or  its  fort.  Time  and  storms  and 
floods  have  changed  the  region.  The  hills  and 
hollows  have  been  leveled.  Their  famous  old  trees 
have  vanished,  and  only  the  river  remains  to  say, 
''Men  may  come  and  men  may  go,  but  I  go  on 
forever.'^ 

During  the  year  of  1779,  Virginia  appropriated 
a  small  amount  of  money  for  the  improvement  of 
the  Wilderness  Road.  The  hardships  of  the 
journey  westward  were  lessened  but  httle,  how- 
ever, and  the  many  families  which  now  emigrated 
by  way  of  Boone's  trail  suffered  privations  similar 
to  those  of  the  earlier  pioneers.  They  made  just 
as  picturesque  caravans  as  they  wound  through 
the  woods  —  pack  horses  loaded,  women  riding 
with  small  children  in  their  laps,  babies  nestled 
in  baskets  swung  betw^een  the  head  of  one  horse 


192  DANIEL  BOONE 

and  the  tail  of  another  in  the  Hne,  children  trudging 
beside  their  fathers  who  drove  the  cattle  and  kept 
their  rifles  in  readiness.  And  they  all  ate  with  the 
same  relish  the  fresh  meat  of  wilderness  buffalo 
and  roasted  corn  at  the  journey's  end. 

Daniel  Boone  and  his  family  went  west  in 
October  and  once  again  passed  through  Cumber- 
land Gap.  He  led  a  large  band  of  Rowan  County 
settlers  and  carried  the  first  artillery  sent  by  Vir- 
ginia to  Kentucky  —  two  small  cannon.  They 
arrived  in  time  for  the  exceptionally  cold  winter 
of  1779-80  which  seems  to  have  prevailed  through- 
out the  East  also,  as  the  troops  in  the  American 
camp  at  Morristown  suffered  as  severely  as  they 
had  on  the  frozen  hillsides  of  Valley  Forge  in  that 
terrible  winter  of  two  years  before.  Boone  learned 
that  the  Indians  had  destroyed  the  corn  crop  in 
Kentucky  during  the  preceding  summer,  and  he 
and  Harrod  devoted  themselves  to  bringing  in 
meat  for  the  new  colonists  until  spring. 

When  Transylvania  had  passed  into  history  and 
the  ancient  Cherokee  hunting-ground  had  become 
Virginia's  most  western  county,  land-titles  which 
Henderson  had  given  were  void,  and  claimants 
were  obliged  to  purchase  new  warrants  from  Vir- 
ginia. Up  to  this  time  neither  Boone  nor  many 
of  his  friends  had  registered  their  claims.     So  in 


PUBLIC  SERVANT  AND  INDIAN  FIGHTER     193 

the  spring  it  was  agreed  that  Boone  should  go  to 
Richmond  and  act  as  agent  in  the  matter  for 
Thomas  and  Nathaniel  Hart  and  a  few  others,  as 
well  as  for  himself.  They  gave  him  money  for  the 
transactions  which,  added  to  his  own  hard-won 
savings,  amounted  to  §20,000  in  paper  money  and 
about  $10,000  in  silver  —  a  large  sum  for  one  man 
to  have  in  his  possession  in  those  days.  How 
Boone  carried  his  treasure,  or  whether  or  not  he 
went  East  alone  with  it  through  the  forest,  we  do 
not  know.  History  only  says  that  somehow, 
somewhere,  on  the  way  to  Richmond,  he  was 
robbed  of  all  this  money.  Of  course,  certain  ones 
at  once  accused  him  of  dishonesty,  but  his  friends, 
the  Harts,  who  had  suffered  the  greatest  loss  by 
the  theft,  announced  pubHcly  that  they  believed 
him  to  be  above  suspicion.  Thomas  Hart  wrote 
to  his  brother  Nathaniel  in  August,  following  the 
misfortune,  that,  while  he  felt  sorry  for  the  poor 
people  who  might  have  lost  not  only  their  money 
but  their  rights  to  their  lands  by  this  ill  luck,  he 
sympathized  more  with  Boone,  ''whose  character  , 
suffered  in  consequence." 

"Much  degenerated  must  the  people  of  this  age 
be,"  Hart  wrote,  "when  amongst  them  are  to  be 
found  men  to  censure  and  blast  the  reputation  of 
a  person  so  just  and  upright,  and  in  whose  heart 


194  DANIEL  BOONE 

is  a  seat  of  virtue  too  pure  to  admit  of  a  thought 
so  base  and  dishonorable." 

The  news  of  Boone's  trouble  spread,  and  kind 
messages  came  to  him  from  many  quarters.  Late 
in  June  the  Virginia  Assembly  granted  him  a 
thousand  acres  in  the  present  Bourbon  County, 
Kentucky,  in  token  of  the  general  sympathy  and 
respect.  His  return  to  Boonesborough  under  the 
circumstances  must  have  been  a  trying  experience. 
Little  good  news  he  had  to  carry  home  with  him. 
If,  as  the  story  goes,  he  had  really  visited  the 
British  Governor,  Hamilton,  who  was  a  prisoner 
of  war  in  Virginia  at  that  time,  he  was  at  least  able 
to  tell  his  fellow-pioneers  that  that  English  offi- 
cial was  very  unhappy  in  his  confinement.  Save 
for  his  leniency  to  Boone,  the  acts  of  that  "hair- 
buying  general"  had  been  most  cruel,  and  in  the 
eyes  of  the  settlers  he  surely  seemed  to  deserve 
all  his  punishments. 

When  Boone  was  again  in  Boonesborough  in 
July,  to  serve  on  the  jury,  he  found  that,  during 
his  absence,  many  families  had  come  over  his  road 
and  by  boat-load  down  the  Ohio.  Kentucky's 
popularity  appeared  to  continue.  Late  in  the 
year  the  Virginia  legislature  divided  the  region 
into  three  counties  —  Jefferson,  Lincoln,  and  Fay- 
ette.    The  latter  included  the  land  between  the 


PUBLIC  SERVANT  AND  INDIAN  FIGHTER      19S 

Kentucky  and  Ohio  rivers,  the  least  populated 
and  therefore  the  wildest  district,  and  toward  this 
free  land  Boone  looked  with  longing  eyes.  His 
own  and  the  other  older  settlements  were  too 
crowded  now  to  please  him.  After  his  younger 
brother,  Edward,  had  been  shot  by  Indians,  while 
he  and  Boone  were  boiling  salt  at  Grassy  Lick  in 
the  present  Bourbon  County,  Boone  decided  to 
move  his  family,  his  pack  horses,  dogs,  and  belong- 
ings, to  the  banks  of  a  small  stream  now  known  as 
Boone's  Creek,  in  Fayette  County,  five  miles 
northwest  of  Boonesborough.  In  a  spot  where 
game  trails  crossed  one  another,  he  built  a  cabin 
and  surrounded  it  with  a  high  fence  of  pales.  Yet 
in  this  tiny  cabin-fort,  called  Boone's  Station, 
in  the  free  and  lonely  woods,  he  did  not  escape 
the  duties  of  pubUc  service  in  a  growing  region 
beset  by  Indians. 

MiHtia  service  was  required  in  those  frontier 
days,  and  a  regiment  was  raised  in  each  new  county. 
John  Todd  was  made  colonel  of  Fayette  County, 
with  Daniel  Boone  as  Ueutenant  colonel.  The 
three  regiments  formed  a  brigade,  and  George 
Rogers  Clark,  one  of  the  earliest  Kentucky  settlers 
and  a  famous  border  leader,  became  brigadier 
general.  Surveyors  for  each  county  were  also 
appointed,  for,  as  land  claims  increased  in  number, 


196  DANIEL  BOONE 

complications  among  the  settlers  increased  also. 
Boone  served  as  deputy  to  Colonel  Thomas  Mar- 
shall, who  was  surveyor. 

As  representative  from  Fayette  County  to  the 
Virginia  Legislature,  whither  he  was  sent  in  April, 
1 781,  Boone  became  entangled  in  the  Revolution. 
At  the  time,  the  British  general,  Cornwallis,  was 
pursuing  ''the  boy,"  as  he  called  General  Lafayette, 
through  Virginia,  and  when  he  approached  Rich- 
mond, the  Frenchman  abandoned  the  defense  of 
the  city.  The  Virginia  Assembly  was  obliged  to 
adjourn  to  Charlottesville,  where  they  were  soon 
warned  that  one  of  Cornwallis's  officers.  Colonel 
Tarleton,  was  galloping  toward  them  and  would 
capture  them  if  they  did  not  make  a  hasty 
escape. 

In  spite  of  the  notice,  Boone  and  two  or  three 
other  legislators  were  taken  prisoners  and  sent  to 
Cornwallis.  They  were  detained  in  the  British 
camp  only  a  few  days,  but,  although  the  Assembly 
was  continuing  its  interrupted  session  at  Staunton, 
Boone  did  not  take  his  seat  again  until  the  fall. 
Perhaps  he  had  given  his  word  not  to  return  until 
the  next  sitting  of  the  legislature,  when  he  had 
been  discharged  on  parole.  He  probably  spent 
the  summer  in  Kentucky  and  returned  to  Rich- 
mond in  September  by  the  roundabout  way  of  the 


PUBLIC  SERVANT  AND  INDIAN  FIGHTER      197 

Ohio  River  and  Pennsylvania,  where  he  visited 
his  boyhood  home. 

This  varied  development  in  the  land  and  life  of 
Kentucky  dispelled  the  ''good  old  days"  of  forest 
freedom  and  of  game  in  plenty,  although  to  us  of 
to-day   the  region  would  still  have   appeared   a 
wilderness.     To  Boone  all  seemed  changed  —  all 
save  the  Indians  who  still  murdered  and  marauded. 
Boone's  craft  and  cunning  hand  were  constantly 
in  demand.     It  is  said  that  once  he  even  shot  two 
Indians  with  a  single  bullet.     He  was  wandering 
alone  through  the  woods  toward  Upper  Blue  Lick, 
when  he  heard  a  rifle  ball  sing  through  the  air  near 
his  ear  and  saw  it  graze  the  bark  of  a  tree  against 
which   he   had    been   leaning.     He   rushed    away 
through  the  undergrowth,  waded  a  near-by  creek, 
and  hid  himself  in  canebrakes  on  the  other  bank. 
As  he  peered  out,  he  saw  two  Indians  appear  on  the 
opposite  shore.     Strangely  enough,   as  he  aimed 
at  one,  the  other  stepped  into  the  range  also.     He 
fired ;   the  bullet  passed  through  the  head  of  one, 
who  fell  dead  at  once,  into  the  shoulder  of  the 
second,  who  fled  howling. 

The  tragedies  caused  by  savages  during  1782 
seem  to  have  been  the  bloodiest  of  all  the  bloody 
experiences  of  the  Kentucky  frontier.  As  usual, 
they  were  plotted  by  the  British  in  the  Northwest. 


198  DANIEL  BOONE 

The  Red  Coats  on  the  seaboard  were  suffering 
such  terrible  defeats  in  *'the  rebellion"  that  even 
CornwalHs  had  been  obHged  to  surrender  and  had 
marched  his  troops  out  of  Yorktown  to  the  tune 
of  ''The  World's  Upside  Down."  This  submission 
to  fate  in  the  East  seemed  to  stir  the  British  spirit 
of  revenge  in  the  West,  and  in  consequence  the 
settlers  were  driven  into  their  forts  by  the  reign  of 
terror  and  torture  which  swept  through  the  three 
Kentucky  counties.  Old  settlers  were  robbed  of 
their  horses  and  live  stock  and  their  cabins  fired ; 
and  often  men  were  found  murdered  in  the  fields 
of  corn.  New  settlers,  riding  cheerily  over  the 
Wilderness  Road,  or  sailing  down  the  Ohio  on  flat 
boats,  found  themselves  suddenly  assailed  and 
''no  quarter"  given,  according  to  British  orders  to 
the  savages.  At  this  time  Boone  was,  as  always, 
a  tower  of  strength  in  Indian  warfare  and,  had  his 
advice  been  followed,  Kentucky's  misfortunes 
would  have  been  less  severe,  and  he  himself  might 
have  been  spared  a  great  sorrow. 

In  August,  a  thousand  Indians,  mustered  under 
two  British  generals,  descended  upon  Bryan's 
Station,  a  settlement  of  forty  cabins  in  Fayette 
County,  a  few  miles  north  of  Boone's  own  tiny  fort. 
Scouts  had  given  warning  of  the  danger  to  the 
little  garrison  of  fifty  riflemen,  but  what  could  so 


PUBLIC  SERVANT  AND  INDIAN  FIGHTER     199 

small  a  band  do  against  such  odds !  The  savages 
hid  in  the  underbrush,  and  for  a  time  only  gun- 
barrels  and  painted  faces  proved  that  Indians 
were  about.  But  soon  war  whoops  and  shooting 
began,  and  the  savages,  banded  under  Chief  Mo- 
luntha,  closed  in  upon  the  stockade,  brandishing 
flaming  torches  as  well  as  fire-arrows.  The  settlers 
fired  with  such  rapidity  and  precision  that  the 
Indians  soon  fell  back  in  amazement,  and,  when 
the  smoke  of  the  battle  had  floated  away,  not  a 
red  man  was  in  sight,  save  the  dead  ones  lying 
about  the  fort.  For  the  remainder  of  the  day  the 
savages  were  in  hiding,  aiming  from  cover  and 
keeping  the  station  in  anxiety.  By  night,  how- 
ever, the  warfare  ceased  and  the  Indians  retreated 
toward  the  Ohio.  Savages  were  indeed  strange 
fighters.  No  settler  knew  exactly  what  they  would 
do.  They  were  not  persistent  by  nature,  and, 
when  some  reverse  occurred,  they  immediately 
lost  interest  and  abandoned  their  project.  A 
small  party  of  horsemen,  who  arrived  in  the  after- 
noon to  aid  the  Station,  may  have  made  the 
Indians  feel  that  soon  all  the  settlements  would 
be  armed  against  them. 

The  call  for  relief,  which  messengers  bore 
through  the  counties,  met  with  quick  response, 
and  three  companies  went  through  the  forest  the 


200  DANIEL  BOONE 

next  day.  Of  course,  Daniel  Boone  was  among 
them  at  the  head  of  one  division,  and  with  him 
went  Israel,  his  oldest  living  son,  a  young  man  of 
twenty-three.  When  Boone  heard  of  the  danger, 
he  hastened  to  Boonesborough,  and,  finding  the 
women,  children,  and  old  men  as  courageous  and 
willing  as  ever  to  defend  the  fort  alone,  had  en- 
listed all  the  younger  men  and  ridden  away  with 
them,  the  last  time  that  he  led  forth  a  band  of 
fighting  men  from  his  own  settlement.  The  three 
companies,  numbering  about  one  hundred  and 
eighty  horsemen,  held  a  council  of  war  at  Bryan's 
Station  and  decided  that  they  would  chase  the 
retreating  Indians. 

The  men  marched  in  three  divisions,  with  Daniel 
Boone,  Stephen  Trigg,  and  Levi  Todd  as  com- 
manders. Todd,  being  the  senior  officer  of  the 
three,  served  as  commander-in-chief.  They  fol- 
lowed the  trail  with  all  speed  and  soon  came  upon 
the  Indians'  camping-ground  of  the  night  before, 
from  which  the  route  led  toward  the  Lower  Blue 
Lick.  On  the  morning  of  August  19,  they  reached 
the  Licking  River  where  Boone,  who  had  been 
using  his  eyes  and  wits  on  the  way,  declared  that 
he  believed  the  Indians  were  luring  them  on  to 
catch  them  in  some  trap,  and  that  further  pursuit, 
before  the  expected  reenforcements  under  Colonel 


PUBLIC  SERVANT  AND  INDIAN  FIGHTER     201 

Benjamin  Logan  had  come,  would  be  foolhardy. 
The  majority  of  the  older  Indian  fighters  agreed 
with  him,  although  it  is  reported  that  ''Colonel 
Todd  was  heard  to  say  that  Boone  was  a  coward, 
and  if  they  waited  till  Colonel  Logan  came  up,  he 
would  gain  all  the  laurels,  but  if  they  pressed  for- 
ward, they  would  gain  all  the  glory." 

Fiery  Major  Hugh  McGary  at  once  scorned 
caution.  Spurring  his  horse  into  the  river,  he  cried, 
''Delay  is  dastardly !  Let  all  who  are  not  cowards 
follow  me!" 

The  men,  seized  with  sudden  excitement,  broke 
ranks  and  raced  after  him  through  the  stream  and 
up  the  steep  bank  opposite.  The  experienced 
officers,  like  Boone,  were  obliged  to  follow.  There, 
as  Boone  had  suspected,  the  Indians  lay  in  ambush. 
About  three  hundred  —  the  others  had  already 
escaped  —  were  concealed  among  the  brush  and 
trees. 

The  Wyandots  charged  furiously  upon  the  settlers 
with  tomahawks,  while  the  Shawnees  fired  shot 
after  shot.  For  a  few  minutes  the  white  men 
fought  their  foes  gallantly  face  to  face,  but  they 
soon  realized  that  victory  for  them  would  be 
impossible.  They  turned  and  fled  precipitately 
down  the  bank  and  swam  out  into  the  stream, 
leaving  behind  them  seventy  dead  comrades  whose 


202  DANIEL  BOONE 

scalps  were  later  borne  away  triumphantly  by 
the  savages.  Before  Boone  and  his  son  had 
thought  of  flight  for  themselves,  Israel  fell  at  his 
father's  feet,  mortally  wounded.  Boone  quickly 
lifted  his  boy  from  the  ground  and,  holding  him 
fast,  leaped  down  the  shore  into  the  water.  By  the 
time  he  had  reached  the  other  side,  Israel  was 
dead,  and  Boone,  in  order  to  save  himself,  was 
forced  in  his  despair  to  leave  the  body  in  the  forest. 
Boone  never  fully  recovered  from  the  shock  and 
suffering  of  this  sorrow.  Tears  always  filled  his 
eyes  in  later  years  when  he  told  the  story  of  this 
terrible  and  unnecessary  disaster. 

As  the  settlers  made  their  confused  escape,  they 
met  Colonel  Logan  coming  to  overtake  them,  with 
five  hundred  men,  who,  added  to  their  own  former 
force,  would  have  been  more  than  a  match  for  the 
Indians.  With  what  regret  and  bitterness  they 
viewed  the  folly  of  their  actions,  as  they  went  home 
defeated ! 

Kentucky  was  now  fully  alarmed.  The  red 
men  had  returned  to  their  own  country,  exulting 
in  spoils  and  scalps.  Who  could  tell  what  they 
would  not  do  next?  The  spirit  of  fear  spread  so 
rapidly  that  Boone  felt  that  help  from  the  East 
was  needed  immediately.  Accordingly  he  sat 
down  in  his  little  cabin-fort  in  Fayette  County  and 


PUBLIC  SERVANT  AND  INDIAN  FIGHTER     203 

wrote  the  governor  of  Virginia  one  of  his  spirited 
but  badly- spelled  letters/  begging  for  aid. 

''Present  circumstances  of  affairs/'  he  said, 
*' cause  me  to  write  to  your  Excellency."  The 
details  of  the  fatal  conflict  at  Licking  River  fol- 
lowed. ''I  know  that  your  circumstances  are 
critical,"  he  continued;  ''but  are  we  to  be  wholly 
forgotten?  I  hope  not.  I  trust  about  five  hun- 
dred men  may  be  sent  to  our  assistance,  im- 
mediately. If  these  shall  be  stationed  as  our 
county  lieutenants  shall  deem  necessary,  it  may 
be  the  means  of  saving  our  part  of  the  country. 
...  I  have  encouraged  the  people  in  this  country 
all  that  I  could ;  but  I  can  no  longer  justify  them 
or  myself  to  risk  our  lives  here  under  extraordinary 
hazard.  The  inhabitants  of  this  country  are  very 
much  alarmed  at  the  thought  of  the  Indians  bring- 
ing another  campaign  into  our  country  this  fall. 
If  this  should  be  the  case,  it  will  break  up  these 
settlements.  I  hope,  therefore,  your  Excellency 
will  take  the  matter  into  your  consideration,  and 
send  us  some  relief  as  quickly  as  possible." 

Times  must  have  been  indeed  serious  when  the 
invincible  Boone  was  forced  to  admit  that  another 
Indian  campaign  "would  break  up  the  settlements." 

The  report  of  this  appealing  letter,  and  of  pro- 
1  The  original,  unedited  letter  appears  to  have  been  lost. 


204  DANIEL  BOONE 

tests  from  other  Kentucky  settlers,  aroused 
General  George  Rogers  Clark,  and  he  assembled 
one  thousand  mounted  riflemen  at  the  mouth  of 
the  Licking  River  where  Cincinnati  stands  to-day. 
Among  them  was  Daniel  Boone,  ready  to  set 
out  in  the  last  expedition  in  which  he  fought  for 
the  defense  of  the  settlements.  They  proceeded 
through  the  forests  of  Ohio  to  the  region  of  the 
Little  Miami,  where  they  burned  Indian  villages 
and  laid  waste  Indian  plantations,  destroyed  stores 
of  corn,  grain,  and  dried  meat,  and  caused  great 
suffering  among  the  Shawnees.  The  savages  were 
so  awed  and  terrified  that  they  fled  without  a  fight, 
and,  as  the  British  ceased  to  support  them  at  the 
end  of  the  Revolution,  they  were  too  greatly  weak- 
ened to  regain  their  usual  strength  and  to  besiege 
the  Kentucky  settlements  with  their  old-time 
power.  They  only  harassed  now  and  then  and 
committed  small  outrages  during  the  next  ten  years, 
once  even  attempting  to  capture  their  former 
*' brother."  The  spirit  of  revenge  was  strong  in 
the  savage  nature,  and  Boone's  many  successes 
could  not  be  forgiven. 

Boone,  it  appears,  was  working  in  his  log  tobacco 
barn  when  the  Indians  caught  him  unawares.  He 
himself  never  used  tobacco,  but  he  had  planted  a 
small  patch  of  the  plant  to  sell  to  his  neighbors, 


PUBLIC  SERVANT  AND  INDIAN  FIGHTER     205 

perhaps  one  hundred  and  fifty  hills.  When  he  was 
ready  to  cure  this,  he  cut  it  and  laid  it  in  three  tiers 
on  poles  in  a  little  temporary  shelter  covered  over 
with  grass  and  cane.  At  the  time  of  the  Indian 
visit,  the  lower  tier  of  tobacco  had  become  dry, 
and  Boone  was  transferring  it  to  the  second  tier,  so 
that  he  might  gather  and  store  a  fresh  crop  in  the 
lower  tier.  While  he  was  thus  busy,  and  standing 
on  poles  that  supported  the  upper  tiers,  four  red 
men  appeared  in  the  doorway. 

"Now,  Boone,"  they  said,  looking  up  at  him, 
"we  got  you.  You  no  get  away  more.  We  carry 
you  off  to  Chillicothe  this  time.  You  no  cheat  us 
again." 

Boone  recognized  these  Shawnees  as  four  of  the 
Indians  who  had  captured  him  at  the  Blue  Licks 
boiling  camp. 

"Ha!  old  friends!"  he  answered.  "Glad  to  see 
you!" 

They  begged  him  to  be  off  at  once  with  them, 
but  he  said  that,  just  as  soon  as  he  had  stacked  his 
tobacco,  he  would  gladly  go.  He  told  them  to 
watch  him  closely,  working  and  chatting  the  while 
with  composure,  crafty  backwoodsman  that  he 
was! 

Suddenly  he  dropped  an  armful  of  the  dry  and 
dusty  sticks  upon  the  upturned  faces  of  the  savages, 


2o6  DANIEL  BOONE 

blinding  and  smothering  them,  and  at  the  same 
moment  he  jumped  from  his  high  place  and  rushed 
toward  his  cabin.  There  he  made  himself  safe 
behind  the  pales.  Boone  is  said  to  have  told  this 
incident  with  great  glee,  at  the  wedding  of  a  grand- 
daughter, shortly  before  his  death.  It  took  more 
than  a  wily  Indian  to  outwit  Daniel  Boone. 

While  Boone  and  the  Kentucky  settlers  had  been 
struggling  to  hold  the  West  and  free  it  from  In- 
dians and  their  British  masters,  the  colonists  on 
the  coast  had  been  lighting  to  free  the  lands  from 
British  control  and  had  won  independence  for 
themselves  and  for  their  Western  countrymen. 
Already  King  George  had  announced  his  failure 
to  Parliament,  "in  a  voice  choked  with  emotion," 
and  the  preHminary  articles  of  peace  had  been 
signed,  declaring  that  the  United  States  was  an 
independent  nation,  extending  from  the  Atlantic 
Ocean  to  the  Mississippi  River  and  from  the  Great 
Lakes  to  Florida.  The  news  of  the  treaty  was 
coming  slowly  over  the  sea,  and  meanwhile  the 
pioneers  in  Kentucky,  unconscious  of  the  momen- 
tous tidings  l3dng  in  a  sealed  packet  in  some  ship's 
hold,  were  hunting,  farming,  and  staking  claims 
in  comparative  quiet. 

In  the  spring  of  1783,  an  Eastern  messenger 
rode  into  Boonesborough,  and  the  eager  settlers, 


PUBLIC  SERVANT  AND  INDIAN  FIGHTER     207 

flocking  to  him,  read  the  welcome  word  Peace  dis- 
played on  his  cap  of  coonskin.  Shouts  and  hurrahs 
echoed  and  reechoed  in  the  forest ;  rifles  and  pistols, 
aimed  at  the  blue  sky,  sent  loud  reports  cracking 
through  the  distance ;  and,  when  night  came,  a 
huge  bonfire  was  lighted  and  roared  triumphantly. 
The  celebration  was  long  and  enthusiastic,  and 
not  until  late  that  spring  night  did  Boonesborough 
fall  asleep  after  its  prayers  of  gratitude  had  been 
said.  A  fresh  era  seemed  to  have  dawned  for  the 
new  nation  and  the  new  West,  and  never  again 
were  Boonesborough's  great  gates  closed. 


CHAPTER  XVIII 

The  Flight  from  Civilization 

Daniel  Boone  was  middle-aged  when  the  mem- 
bers of  the  Continental  Congress  marched  to  church 
in  a  body  and  gave  thanks  to  God  for  the  success 
of  the  patriot  cause.  He  was  hale  and  hearty,  as 
a  man  in  the  prime  of  life  should  be,  when  he  re- 
turned from  his  last  expedition  against  the  Indians, 
the  excursion  under  Clark  which  brought  an  end 
to  general  Indian  outrages.  Now  that  he  had 
built  the  Wilderness  Road,  opened  the  West,  and 
helped  to  make  Kentucky's  welfare  more  or  less 
secure,  we  might  expect  that  the  remainder  of  his 
days  passed  in  happiness  and  comfort  and  further 
achievement.  But,  although  Boone's  public  serv- 
ice continued  almost  to  the  end  of  his  life,  his 
greatest  work  was  done. 

As  a  pioneer  and  Indian  fighter  he  had  been  Ken- 
tucky's leader,  sharing  renown  as  a  soldier  of  the 
West  only  with  George  Rogers  Clark.  In  the  days 
of  the  early  settlements  and  of  the  Indian  conflicts 
he  had  won  for  himself  a  fadeless  memory;  his 
courage,  understanding,  forethought,  and  unselfish- 

208 


THE  FLIGHT  FROM  CIVILIZATION     209 

ness  had  established  him  for  all  time  in  the  hearts 
of  his  countrymen.  Yet  when  Kentucky's  stock- 
ade gates  were  opened,  and  its  days  of  war  became 
less  and  less  frequent,  his  leadership  waned  and 
he  was  forced  to  step  aside  for  men  better  adapted 
to  the  offices  of  government.  He  was  neither  a 
statesman  nor  a  business  man,  but  a  quiet,  un- 
sophisticated backwoodsman,  with  a  keen  dislike 
for  all  the  problems  of  society.  As  Kentucky's 
settlements  grew  into  towns,  he  found  himself 
little  fitted  for  the  complex  life  of  their  civiliza- 
tion for  which  he  himself  had  blazed  the  way. 
How  strange  it  was  that  the  very  development  and 
prosperity  in  the  West  which  he  had  made  possible 
should  have  caused  him  great  unhappiness ! 

His  shortcomings,  however,  did  not  detract  from 
his  achievements  nor  from  his  fame.  Stories  of 
his  exploits  as  hunter  and  explorer  were  told  and 
retold  throughout  the  country  and  traveled  even 
to  Europe  where  they  were  repeated  in  England 
and  on  the  Continent  with  wonder  and  delight. 
The  life  of  the  picturesque  pioneer  dressed  in  skins, 
living  in  a  log  cabin,  fighting  Indians  and  wild 
beasts,  and  spending  as  much  time  as  possible  in 
solitude,  became  familiar  to  busy  and  prosperous 
men  and  women  in  distant  cities  in  which  Boone 
himself  would  have  felt  ill  at  ease  indeed.     They 


2IO  DANIEL  BOONE 

admired  his  heroism  and  were  fascinated  by  his  ad- 
venturous career. 

In  1784,  John  Filson's  record  of  Boone's  life  was 
published,  and,  in  spite  of  its  stilted  and  formal 
style,  it  was  widely  circulated.  Men  at  home  and 
abroad  discussed  its  thrilling  story,  and  in  conse- 
quence Boone's  reputation  was  increased.  He 
became  a  famous  man.  To  foreigners  he  typified 
the  true  American  pioneer  in  all  his  hardihood, 
simplicity,  and  dauntless  spirit.  Public  journals 
contained  accounts  of  his  exploits ;  travelers  to  the 
West  begged  interviews  with  him;  books  of  the 
time  contained  references  to  him  and  his  prowess, 
and  even  Lord  Byron's  muse  was  moved  by  tales 
of  the  backwoodsman  and  the  poem  to  '^  General 
Boone  of  Kentucky"  followed.  To-day,  in  the 
Congressional  Library  at  Washington,  there  are 
deposited  various  biographies  of  Daniel  Boone 
written  in  foreign  languages  and  published  in  foreign 
countries  —  Norway,  Sweden,  Germany,  France, 
and  the  United  Kingdom. 

After  the  Revolution,  Boone  busied  himself  with 
his  favorite  occupations.  With  the  receipts  from 
military  services,  and  by  constant  thrift  and  in- 
dustry, he  was  able  to  pay  for  various  sites  and 
purchase  some  comforts  to  reUeve  the  rough  Hving 
of  frontier  life.     But  he  was  constantly  interrupted 


THE  FLIGHT  FROM  CIVILIZATION        211 

in  his  hunting  and  farming  by  the  many  conflicts  in 
land  claims  which  arose  in  consequence  of  the  loose 
surveying  methods.  He  was  not  only  deputy 
surveyor  but  both  sheriff  and  county  lieutenant 
for  Fayette,  and,  as  these  three  officials,  he  was 
obliged  to  respond  to  many  demands.  The  follow- 
ing is  one  of  his  official  military  orders  for  a  body- 
guard to  escort  the  chief  surveyor,  Colonel  Marshall, 
to  Kentucky's  land  office,  situated  at  the  Falls  of 
the  Ohio.  This  order  proves  that  Boone's  reputa- 
tion did  not  depend  upon  his  abiUty  to  spell. 

''Orders  to  Capt.  Hazelrigg  —  your  are  amedetly 
to  order  on  Duty  3  of  your  Company  as  goude 
[guard]  to  scorte  Col  Marshall  to  the  falls  of  ohigho 
you  will  call  on  those  who  was  Exicused  from  the 
Shone  [Shawnee]  Expedistion  and  those  who  Come 
into  the  Country  after  the  army  Marched  they  are 
to  meet  at  Lexinton  on  Sunday  next  with  out  fale 
given  under  my  hand  this  6  Day  of  Janury  1783. 

''Dnl  Boone." 

Boone's  Kentucky  was  changing  rapidly.  Several 
thousand  newcomers  —  land  speculators,  mer- 
chants, lawyers,  other  professional  men,  and 
genuine  settlers  who  wanted  to  found  homes  — 
made  their  way  thither  following  the  Revolution. 
Germans,  Scotch,  Irish,  as  well  as  Americans,  were 
among  the  throng.     Real  estate  companies,  formed 


212  DANIEL  BOONE 

in  Eastern  cities,  told  the  people  in  glowing  colors  of 
Western  life  and  hired  agents  to  procure  sites  for 
their  customers.  The  wilderness  became  a  busy 
region,  the  Louisville  settlement  alone  growing 
to  have  three  hundred  inhabitants.  Within  two 
years  after  the  Wyandots  and  Shawnees  had  so 
cleverly  lured  the  settlers  to  death  at  the  Blue 
Licks,  a  "dry-goods  store"  was  opened  in  Lexing- 
ton. Within  another  year  an  inn  appeared  there, 
and  twelve  months  later  Kentucky's  first  news- 
paper, the  Kentucky  Gazette,  was  founded,  and 
issued  its  first  sheet  printed  on  a  press  which  had 
been  hauled  by  pack  horses  over  the  mountains. 
The  settlers  began  to  plan  for  their  children's 
education  —  the  first  school  in  Kentucky  had  been 
opened  in  1779  in  Boonesborough  —  and  to  make 
sacrifices  to  meet  the  expense. 

Crops  —  Indian  corn,  grain,  pumpkins,  melons, 
fruits,  and  tobacco  —  yielded  more  than  the 
Kentucky  colonists  could  use  for  themselves.  The 
wide  ranges  were  dotted  with  great  droves  of  cattle 
and  with  horses,  hogs,  and  sheep ;  and,  at  a  distance, 
deer,  bears,  and  buffaloes  were  still  hunted,  and  the 
yield  of  venison,  bacon,  and  beef  gave  the  settlers 
ample  wild  meat.  Furs  and  bittersweet  roots  of 
ginseng  were  shipped  eastward,  either  by  way 
of  the  Wilderness  Road  or  the  Ohio,  and  beef. 


THE  FLIGHT  FROM  CIVILIZATION        213 

bacon,  tobacco,  and  salt  from  the  salt  springs  at 
the  licks  were  loaded  on  flatboats  and  borne 
down  the  Ohio  and  Mississippi.  Merchandise, 
such  as  the  early  settlers  had  never  dreamed  of 
possessing,  was  brought  back  to  change  the  primi- 
tive mode  of  living  in  the  wilderness.  Because 
money  was  more  abundant  and  trade  brisk,  com- 
forts and  even  extravagance  began  to  appear. 

The  three  counties  into  which  the  wilderness  had 
been  divided  were  united  into  one  district  in  1783, 
and  the  region  once  more  called  by  its  Indian  name, 
Kentucky.  A  court  was  established  for  certain 
criminal  and  land  cases.  At  first  Harrodsburg 
was  the  seat  of  justice,  but,  for  want  of  accommoda- 
tions, the  court  sat  in  a  meetinghouse  six  miles 
distant.  Before  long,  a  log  courthouse  was  built 
near  the  church.  This  tiny  settlement  was  soon 
known  as  Danville  and  became  the  capital  of 
the  county.  There,  in  1784,  representatives  of 
the  various  militia  companies  assembled  to  con- 
sider the  desirability  of  the  separation  of  Kentucky 
from  Virginia  and  the  formation  of  an  independent 
state.  Later,  a  formal  convention  was  held  and 
resolutions  were  adopted  and  sent  to  the  Virginia 
legislature,  begging  that  the  county  be  allowed  to 
separate  and,  with  the  sanction  of  Congress,  to  be- 
come a  state  in  the  Union.     The  petition  was  not 


214  DANIEL  BOONE 

granted  until  1792,  and  in  consequence  the  inter- 
vening years  brought  much  political  discontent  to 
the  thirty  thousand  settlers  of  the  county,  in  spite 
of  their  general  prosperity  and  newly-won  ease. 
Some  even  wanted  to  set  up  an  independent 
government  in  Kentucky,  and  all  desired  to 
have  some  official  arrangements  made  whereby 
certain  definite  and  immediate  steps  might  be 
taken  for  the  welfare  of  the  West  which  neither 
Virginia  nor  the  eastern  members  of  Congress 
considered  necessary.  It  was  evident  that  Boone's 
Kentucky  was  no  longer  a  mere  cabin  settlement ; 
it  had  become  a  commonwealth,  at  least  in  spirit. 

Two  old  enemies  and  a  new  one  disturbed  the 
peace  and  made  action  seem  necessary.  Although 
the  Revolution  was  passed,  the  British  posts  lo- 
cated in  the  great  Northwest  refused  to  surrender 
and  continued  to  incite  the  savage  allies  of  the 
Crown.  Indian  depredations  went  on.  Houses 
and  stores  of  provisions  were  burned,  men  and 
women  murdered,  and  scalps  stretched  upon  hoops 
for  drying  by  the  savages,  with  their  customary 
coolness  and  delight.  The  Kentuckians  felt  that 
Virginia,  despite  any  complications  at  home,  should 
send  the  aid  for  which  they  had  long  pleaded,  in 
order  to  terminate,  once  and  for  all,  this  loss  and 
bloodshed. 


THE  FLIGHT  FROM  CIVILIZATION        215 

The  third  disturbing  element  was  Spain,  whose 
territory,  called  Louisiana,  lay  beyond  Kentucky 
to  the  west.  When  the  settlers  had  acquired  the 
region  which  once  had  been  the  West  to  them,  they 
longed  for  the  land  yet  farther  on,  and  for  a  free 
outlet  to  the  sea  down  the  Mississippi  River  in 
particular.  Louisiana  had  been  discovered,  settled, 
and  held,  by  the  French  until  1762,  when,  by  a 
secret  treaty,  it  had  been  ceded  to  the  Spanish 
Crown.  In  consequence,  Spain  owned  New  Or- 
leans and  all  the  land  about  the  mouth  of  the  Mis- 
sissippi. As  long  as  the  Kentuckians  wanted  to 
ship  only  furs  to  the  Atlantic  coast,  they  found  that 
the  long  journey  over  the  mountains  by  pack  horses 
answered  their  purpose  well  enough.  When  they 
came  to  have  bulky  produce  which  they  wished  to 
sell,  such  as  com  meal,  flour,  pork,  and  lumber, 
they  were  obliged  to  transport  it  on  flatboats  or 
rafts  down  the  Ohio  and  Mississippi  rivers  to  New 
Orleans.  There  the  cargo  and  boat  were  sold,  or 
the  cargo  sold  and  transferred  to  ocean  vessels. 
Thus  the  "Father  of  Waters,"  as  the  Indian  name 
"Mississippi"  may  be  translated,  being  the  only 
outlet  for  this  heavy  produce,  was  very  necessary- 
to  the  prosperity  of  the  West.  Spanish  officers 
at  New  Orleans  made  more  or  less  trouble  for  the 
merchants  and  threatened  to  prevent  them  from 


2i6  DANIEL  BOONE 

sending  their  produce  to  the  port.  The  Eastern 
men  in  Congress  failed  to  realize  the  importance  of 
free  navigation  on  the  Mississippi,  and  the  Ken- 
tuckians,  being  unable  either  to  form  a  state  or  to 
become  independent  of  Virginia,  were  greatly 
handicapped  and  exasperated. 

While  these  changes  were  coming  to  pass  in  his 
former  wilderness,  Daniel  Boone  was  growing  more 
and  more  restless  and  unhappy.  Probably  in  the 
spring  of  1786,  he  abandoned  his  cabin-fort  at 
Boone's  Station  and  moved  north  to  Maysville, 
on  the  south  bank  of  the  Ohio,  where  he  con- 
ducted a  small  tavern  and  store.  Mrs.  Boone, 
doubtless,  served  as  hostess,  as  Boone  himself  was 
surely  too  much  occupied  away  from  the  inn  to 
attend  to  the  travelers  who  came  by  water  to 
Kentucky.  He  hunted,  trapped,  surveyed,  piloted 
immigrant  parties,  and  served  as  merchant  and 
trader.  The  goods,  which  he  sold  in  his  small  store, 
he  and  his  sons  bought  in  Maryland  in  exchange 
for  furs,  skins,  and  ginseng  which  they  carried 
thither  over  old  roads  or  new  paths  on  their  pack 
horses.  He  frequently  ran  the  gauntlet  on  the 
Ohio  between  Maysville  and  Point  Pleasant, 
which  lay  up  the  river  at  the  mouth  of  the  Ka- 
nawha, alternately  trading  at  the  hamlets  and 
fighting  the  Indians  who  hid  along  the  banks. 
Such  experiences  were  the  spice  of  life  to  Boone. 


THE  FLIGHT  FROM  CIVILIZATION        217 

But  worries  and  troubles  lay  heavily  on  his  heart. 
As  more  and  more  land  claims  were  registered  by  the 
newcomers,  the  old  settlers,  like  Boone,  who  had 
paid  Httle  heed  to  legal  requirements,  found  their 
lands  entered  in  the  land  office  in  strange  names. 
Boone,  who  had  given  his  life  for  Kentucky,  and 
to  whom  its  hills,  streams,  and  valleys  were  most 
dear,  never  dreamed  that  any  one  could  or  would 
wish  to,  rob  him  of  his  just  rights  to  the  wilderness. 
He  considered  that  any  entry,  recording  his  claim, 
even  one  so  vague  as  the  following,  proved  without 
a  doubt  his  right  to  the  property. 

^'Aperel  the  22  1785"  is  the  date  of  a  claim  "on 
the  Bank  of  Cantuckey."  "  Survayd  for  Dal  Boone 
5000  acres  begin  at  Robert  Camels  N  E  Corner  at 
at  2  White  ashes  and  Buckeyes  S  1200  p[oles]  to 
3  Shuger  trees  Ealm  and  walnut  E  666  yr  to  6 
Shuger  trees  and  ash  N  1200  yr  to  a  poplar  and 
beech  W  666  yr  to  the  begining." 

With  his  unbusinesslike  viewpoint,  he  could  not 
realize  that  a  regular  registration  of  land  claims 
according  to  legal  form  was  absolutely  necessary. 
He  himself  was  scrupulously  honest;  he  expected 
individuals  and  the  state  to  be  equally  just  to  him. 
Yet  ere  long,  because  of  his  impractical  ways  and 
his  antipathy  to  technical  forms  of  law,  he  found 
himself  absolutely  landless.    The  many  acres  which 


2i8  DANIEL  BOONE 

he  had  been  granted,  or  had  preempted,  during 
the  twenty  years  since  he  blazed  the  Wilderness 
Road,  were  shorn  from  him.  The  two  thousand 
acres,  given  him  by  the  Transylvania  Company, 
had  lapsed,  of  course,  but  Virginia  had  substi- 
tuted a  thousand  acres  in  the  present  Bourbon 
County,  and  Boone  himself  had  chosen  many  choice 
sites  during  his  constant  wandering.  He  employed 
counsel  and  attended  the  courts,  but  without  avail. 
His  claims  were  imperfectly  entered  and  he  was 
ejected  from  the  land  which  he  had  explored  and 
vaUantly  defended.  Even  his  beautiful  farm  near 
Boonesborough  passed  into  other  hands.  However 
much  the  courts  may  have  sympathized  with  the 
hero  of  Kentucky,  they  were  forced  to  abide  by 
the  letter  rather  than  by  the  spirit  of  the  law. 

Accordingly,  in  1788,  Boone  packed  up  his  goods 
and,  turning  his  back  upon  the  Kentucky  which  he 
had  helped  to  found  and  had  loved  so  long,  he 
sought  a  new  home  in  the  wilderness  of  the  Ka- 
nawha Valley,  then  in  Virginia. 

In  a  memorial  to  the  legislature  of  Kentucky  in 
181 2,  he  wrote  briefly  and  with  natural  simplicity 
(some  kindly  hand  corrected  his  crude  spelUng) 
of  this  sad  time  in  his  life  :  "Unacquainted  with  the 
niceties  of  the  law,  the  few  lands  I  was  enabled  to 
locate  were,  through  my  ignorance,  generally 
swallowed  up  by  better  claims." 


THE  FLIGHT  FROM  CIVILIZATION        219 

Boone  at  first  settled  on  the  river  not  far  from 
Point  Pleasant.  Later  he  moved  to  the  site  of 
Charleston.  Many  of  the  valley  people  knew  him 
personally;  others  by  reputation  only;  and  all 
welcomed  him  with  such  warmth  that  he  must 
have  been  heartened  and  have  found  the  new  life 
offering  unexpected  interest.  He  cultivated  his 
farm,  raised  stock,  hunted  in  the  proper  seasons, 
although  the  region  was  not  as  rich  in  game  as  he 
had  hoped,  and  kept  a  small  store  in  Point  Pleasant. 
He  was  then  as  always  a  picturesque  and  compelling 
figure.  One  who  knew  him  in  those  days  de- 
scribed him  as  follows:^  *'His  large  head,  full 
chest,  square  shoulders,  and  stout  form  are  still 
impressed  upon  my  mind.  He  was  (I  think) 
about  five  feet  ten  inches  in  height,  and  his  weight 
say  one  hundred  and  seventy-five  pounds.  He  was 
solid  in  mind  as  well  as  in  body,  never  frivolous, 
thoughtless,  or  agitated ;  but  was  always  quiet, 
meditative,  and  impressive,  unpretentious,  kind, 
and  friendly  in  his  manner.  He  came  very  much 
up  to  the  idea  we  have  of  the  old  Grecian  philos- 
ophers —  particularly  Diogenes." 

During  his  residence  at  Maysville,  Boone  served 
as  town  trustee  and  as  representative  in  the  Vir- 
ginia legislature,  where  he  revived  the  sore  question 

1  Quoted  from  "  Daniel  Boone  "  by  Reuben  Gold  Thwaites. 


2  20  DANIEL  BOONE 

of  military  aid  for  the  Kentuckians.  He  com- 
plained that  the  arms  sent  west  by  the  state  were 
of  little  use,  that  the  rifles  came  without  flints  or 
cartridge-boxes,  and  that  the  swords  had  no  scab- 
bards. 

The  men  of  Kanawha  Valley  treated  him  with 
equal  distinction.  They  petitioned  for  his  ap- 
pointment as  lieutenant  colonel  of  their  county, 
which  office  he  received,  and  later  they  elected 
him  to  represent  them  at  Richmond.  As  during 
his  terms  of  service  from  Boonesborough  and 
Maysville,  he  indulged  in  little  oratory  in  the  as- 
sembly, but  lent  himself  with  quiet  dignity  and 
sympathy  to  the  many  interests  before  the  body. 
He  was  a  member  of  two  committees  which  in 
those  days  were  important  —  the  committee  on 
religion,  and  the  committee  on  propositions  and 
licenses. 

By  the  summer  of  1790,  the  Indians  had  become 
so  incensed  by  the  crowds  of  settlers  coming  to  the 
West  that  they  were  making  life  almost  unbearable. 
The  Government  was  at  last  forced  to  take  the  field 
against  them,  after  seven  years  of  fruitless  parleying 
and  treaties.  The  Federal  forces  quelled  various 
uprisings  during  the  following  twelve  months. 
Boone  and  his  militia,  however,  do  not  appear  to 
have  figured  in  any  of  the  encounters ;    probably 


THE  FLIGHT  FROM  CIMLIZATION        221 

they  were  needed  for  defense  on  the  frontier  at 
home.  In  October,  1791,  while  Boone  was  in  the 
legislature,  Governor  Arthur  St.  Clair,  of  the 
Northwest  Territory,  suffered  overwhelming  defeat 
in  an  expedition  against  the  Indian  towns  on  the 
Miami  River. 

When  word  of  St.  Clair's  disaster  reached  the 
Virginia  assembly,  the  members  immediately  voted 
to  send  a  large  quantity  of  ammunition  to  the 
militia  on  the  Monongahela  and  Kanawha  rivers, 
which  was  soon  to  be  called  out,  following  the 
Federal  reverses.  Boone  applied  to  the  governor 
for  the  contract  to  transport  these  supplies. 

''Sir,''  wrote  Boone,  *'as  sum  person  Must  Carry 
out  the  Armantstion  [ammunition]  to  Red  Stone  if 
your  Excelency  should  have  thought  me  a  proper 
person  I  would  undertake  it  on  conditions  I  have 
the  apintment  to  vitel  the  company  at  Kanhowway 
so  that  I  Could  take  Down  the  flower  as  I  paste 
that  place  I  am  your  Excelencey's  most  obedient 
omble  servant  Dal  Boone." 

This  original  document  met  with  favor.  Five 
days  later,  December  18,  1791,  Boone  received 
the  commission  and  set  out  with  the  supplies  for 
Red  Stone,  now  known  as  Brownsville,  Pennsyl- 
vania. Some  misunderstanding  seems  to  have 
arisen,    for,    although    Boone    delivered    certain 


222  DANIEL  BOONE 

orders,  others  failed  to  reach  their  destination, 
and  complaints  were  forwarded  to  the  governor. 
Very  likely  Boone's  unbusinesslike  methods  in- 
volved him  once  more  in  complications.  No  official 
inquiry  into  the  affair  seems  to  have  been  made. 
There  evidently  was  no  question  of  Boone's  honor- 
able intentions. 

The  frontiers  were  alarmed  by  the  defeat  of  St. 
Clair,  and  indignation  spread  throughout  the 
country.  General  Wa}Tie  —  ''Mad  Anthony "  they 
called  him,  on  account  of  his  bravery  and  dash, 
though  he  was  an  experienced  and  skillful  soldier  — 
was  appointed  St.  Clair's  successor  and  expected 
to  reduce  the  savages  to  abject  submission.  He 
marched  west  in  the  autumn  of  1793,  and  in  August, 
1794,  with  cavalry  and  infantry  charges,  defeated 
the  enemy  at  Fallen  Timbers,  not  far  from  the 
present  Maumee  City,  Ohio.  The  following  sum- 
mer eleven  hundred  sachems  and  warriors,  repre- 
senting twelve  cantons,  met  the  United  States 
Commissioners  at  Grenville,  north  of  Cincinnati, 
and  made  another  treaty  of  peace  —  a  peace  which 
the  Indians  this  time  observed  for  fifteen  years. 
!  Joy  flashed  along  the  frontiers,  and  men  and 
women  breathed  easily,  for  now  it  seemed  that, 
after  twenty  years  of  almost  constant  dread  of 
Indians,  they  were  free  to  go  and  come  in  peace, 


THE  FLIGHT  FROM  CIVILIZATION        223 

to  open  up  the  forests,  to  hunt  wherever  wild  beasts 
led  them,  to  cultivate  their  farms,  to  develop  their 
own  lives  and  their  own  communities  as  pleased 
them  best.  Naturally,  Boone  also  rejoiced  in  this 
great  change,  grateful  for  the  new  freedom  for 
himself  and  for  the  hundreds  of  strangers  settled 
in  the  region  over  which  he  felt  an  ownership 
almost  paternal.  Three  years  before  the  assurance 
of  peace,  the  county  had  been  made  a  state,  and  the 
year  following  the  treaty  of  Grenville  the  Kentucky 
legislature  had  appropriated  money  for  the  im- 
provement of  the  Wilderness  Road.  For  the  first 
time,  it  was  made  fit  for  wagon  travel.  Up  to  that 
time  all  settlers  had  come  over  its  difiicult  and  un- 
even way  on  foot  or  on  horseback,  and  pack  horses 
had  carried  all  belongings.  It  was  estimated  that 
at  least  seventy-five  thousand  persons  had  gone 
to  the  West  over  Daniel  Boone's  road  in  the  years 
between  1775  and  1796,  before  it  was  opened  to 
wagons.     Surely  Kentucky  had  developed. 

When  news  of  the  Legislature's  vote  regarding 
the  Wilderness  Road  reached  Boone,  he  made  one 
more  pathetic  appeal  to  bring  himself  again  into 
his  old  life. 

"Sir,"  he  wrote  to  Governor  Shelby  of  Ken- 
tucky, "after  my  best  Respts  to  your  Ex- 
celancy  and  famyly  I  wish  to  inform  you  that  I 


224  DANIEL  BOONE 

have  sum  intention  of  undertaking  this  New  Rode 
that  is  to  be  cut  through  the  Wilderness  and  I 
think  my  Self  intitled  to  the  ofer  of  the  Bisness  as 
I  first  Marked  out  that  Rode  in  March  1775  and 
Never  rec'd  anything  for  my  trubel  and  Sepose  I 
am  no  Statesman  I  am  a  Woodsman  and  think 
My  Self  as  Capable  of  Marking  and  Cutting  that 
Rode,  as  any  other  man  Sir  if  you  think  with  Me  I 
would  thank  you  to  wright  me  a  Line  by  the  post 
the  first  oportuneaty  and  he  Will  Lodge  it  at  Mr. 
John  Milers  on  hinkston  fork  as  I  wish  to  know 
Where  and  when  it  is  to  be  Laat  [let]  So  that  I 
may  attend  at  the  time  I  am  Deer  Sir  your  very 
omble  sarvent  Daniel  Boone." 

But  alas  !  Boone  was  no  longer  a  leader,  and  the 
contract,  which  should  have  in  all  fairness  been 
awarded  him,  was  given  some  one  else  —  some  one 
else  to  whom  the  state  owed  little,  while  to  Boone 
it  owed  much. 

Boone  was  far  from  happy.  Memories  flooded 
his  thoughts.  He  longed  for  the  old  Kentucky, 
for  the  old  trails  and  licks,  for  the  old  friends  with 
whom  he  had  lived  and  fought  side  by  side.  He 
longed,  too,  for  the  unbroken  forest  and  the  old- 
time  wilderness  undisturbed  by  settlers.  The 
hunting  did  not  satisfy  him  as  formerly,  although 
he  had  unusual  success  in  beaver-trapping  and 


THE  FLIGHT  FROM  CIVILIZATION        225 

managed  to  bring  home  much  meat  to  share  with 
his  neighbors,  and  many  skins  and  furs  to  send  to 
Eastern  markets.  As  he  trudged  the  valley  of  the 
Gauley  River,  flowing  along  not  far  from  Charles- 
ton, his  favorite  haunt  for  beavers,  his  mind 
reverted  sadly  to  days  that  were  gone.  How  hope- 
fully and  heartily  he  had  worked  in  the  past  and 
how  bitterly  life  had  served  him ! 

To  complete  his  unhappiness,  in  1798  came  the 
news  that  the  few  claims  in  Kentucky  which  he 
had  still  possessed  when  he  departed  for  the 
Kanawha  Valley,  had  been  sold  at  auction  by  the 
sheriff  for  the  taxes  which  he  was  unable  to  pay. 
His  last  piece  of  land  in  Kentucky  was  gone  !  The 
wilderness,  to  which  he  had  blazed  the  way,  now 
held  only  memories  for  him. 

And  so  once  again  Boone  set  his  face  toward  the 
West.  For  the  fourth  time  he  decided  to  flee 
from  civilization.  As  a  youth  he  had  guided  his 
father's  family  from  the  growing  settlements  of 
Oley  Township  to  the  beautiful  and  untrammeled 
Yadkin  Valley.  As  a  man  of  forty,  he  had  led  his 
wife  and  children  over  the  mountains  and  through 
Cumberland  Gap  to  that  alluring  Indian  hunting- 
ground  w^hich  he  "esteemed  a  second  paradise." 
Baffled  and  worsted  by  the  strange  customs  of 
society,  which  had  followed  in  his  footsteps  over  the 

Q 


226  DANIEL  BOONE 

wilderness  trail  and  by  way  of  the  Ohio,  he  had 
wrenched  himself  from  dear  associations  about 
Boonesborough,  and,  as  a  man  of  fifty-four,  he  had 
resolutely  set  off  for  the  banks  of  the  Kanawha 
where  he  hoped  to  find  a  Hfe  more  like  the  old  life 
of  the  frontier.  There  the  crowds  —  or  what 
seemed  like  crowds  to  him  —  overtook  him  and 
further  disappointments  came  to  increase  his  dis- 
like for  civilization.  Again,  at  sixty-five,  he  felt 
that  he  must  seek  the  wilderness. 

Plains  and  forests  lay  in  Spain's  great  territory 
beyond  the  Mississippi  River,  which  bounded  the 
United  States  on  the  west.  Buffaloes,  grizzly 
bears,  deer,  and  beavers  were  plentiful,  and  the 
people  there,  Boone  heard,  were  open-hearted 
Frenchmen  for  the  most  part,  living  simple,  un- 
ambitious lives  as  small  farmers  and  hunters. 
Spain  held  them  by  few  laws  and  ruled  them  lightly. 
Moreover,  the  Spanish  Crown  was  offering  generous 
grants  to  American  pioneers  who  would  settle 
in  Louisiana.  Canada's  power  was  feared,  and 
the  strength  of  colonists  from  the  East  would  help 
to  forestall  any  attack  which  the  northern  country 
might  be  planning  upon  the  fertile  Mississippi 
Valley.  Daniel  Morgan  Boone,  Daniel  Boone's 
oldest  living  son,  had  already  settled  in  the  present 
St.  Charles  County  of  Missouri,  near  the  junction 


THE  FLIGHT  FROM  CIVILIZATION        227 

of  the  Missouri  River  and  the  *' Father  of  Waters." 
Boone  followed  him  in  1799. 

The  story  goes  that  the  people  of  the  Kanawha 
Valley  came  from  far  and  near,  on  foot,  on  horse- 
back, and  by  boat,  to  say  good-by  to  the  great 
backwoodsman.     For  them  it  was  a  sad  occasion. 

"They  bade  him  a  farewell  as  solemnly  affec- 
tionate," says  Dr.  Thwaites,  "as  though  he  were 
departing  for  another  world."  Indeed,  he  was 
bound  for  a  region  strange  to  them,  belonging  to 
a  foreign  country  and  ruled  by  a  king,  an  official 
for  whom  Americans  had  little  use  in  general. 

Flatboats  were  made  ready,  and  the  Boones, 
together  with  such  chattels  as  could  be  transported 
easily  and  with  some  cattle,  embarked  on  the 
Kanawha  and  sailed  down  the  Ohio.  The  journey 
was  taken  leisurely.  They  stopped  at  various 
towns  along  the  banks  to  visit  friends  and  to  buy 
provisions.  Everywhere  Boone's  arrival  was  an- 
nounced, as  he  was  well  known  by  reputation,  and 
men  flocked  to  him  to  ask  questions  and  advice. 

It  is  said  that  at  Cincinnati  some  one  asked  him 
why,  at  sixty-five,  he  was  leaving  a  good  home  and 
friends  for  the  uncertain  life  of  a  frontier. 

"Too  crowded  here!"  he  answered  with  charac- 
teristic briefness.     "I  want  more  elbow-room  1" 

So  Daniel  Boone  crossed  the  current  of  the  broad 


2  28  DANIEL  BOONE 

Mississippi  to  the  Louisiana  shore  and  settled  in 
the  Middle  West,  where  to-day  Missouri  lies. 

Courageously,  and  hoping  for  peace  and  content- 
ment, he  made  his  way  westward  —  for  the  last 
time. 


CHAPTER  XIX 

Traveling  toward  the  Sunset 

It  was  indeed  a  feather  in  Louisiana's  cap  to  win 
so  renowned  an  American  as  Daniel  Boone.  The 
inhabitants  soon  came  to  reaHze  the  kind  of  man 
who  had  come  to  live  among  them.  They  might 
have  said  of  him,  as  did  Thomas  Hart,  who  knew 
Boone  ''when  poverty  and  distress  held  him  fast 
by  the  hand,"  that  they  ''ever  found  him  a  noble 
and  generous  soul,  despising  everything  mean." 

The  Spanish  authorities,  according  to  their 
"assurance  that  ample  portions  of  land  should  be 
given  to  him  and  his  family,"  granted  him,  free  of 
charge,  ten  thousand  choice  Spanish  arpents,  which 
amounted  to  about  eight  hundred  and  fifty  EngHsh 
acres,  bordering  upon  his  son's  estate  on  Femme 
Osage  Creek,  north  of  the  Missouri  River  and  about 
forty-five  miles  west  of  St.  Louis.  There  Boone 
built  a  log  cabin,  and  he  and  his  wife  settled  them- 
selves to  enjoy  Hfe  among  the  picturesque  Httle 
villages  which  the  French  had  strung  along  the 
river  and  creek  banks. 

The  leisurely  and  care-free  existence  of  his  new 

229 


230  DANIEL  BOONE 

neighbors  proved  a  great  relief  to  Boone  after  the 
zealous,  bustling,  warring  ways  of  his  own  young 
and  growing  country  just  across  the  river.  A 
kindly  spirit  seems  to  have  prevailed.  The  French 
were  on  friendly  terms  with  the  Indians,  with  whom 
they  bartered,  and,  it  is  said,  theft  and  dishonesty 
being  rare,  only  two  locks  were  necessary  in  St. 
Louis,  the  capital  of  Upper  Louisiana  —  one  on 
the  prison,  the  other  on  the  Government  House. 
Boone's  fame  had  traveled  before  him  and  his 
welcome  was  exceedingly  hearty.  The  reception, 
which  officials  as  well  as  genial  individuals  gave 
him,  together  with  free  and  easy  customs,  made 
Boone  feel  at  home  and  happy.  Indeed,  he  often 
said  that,  except  his  first  long  hunt  in  Kentucky, 
this  was  the  pleasantest  time  of  his  life. 

The  year  following,  Boone  was  appointed  syndic, 
or  magistrate,  of  Femme  Osage  District.  The 
honor  came  to  him  because  he  was  able  and  worthy, 
and  because  he  could  read  and  write!  Most  of 
the  French  inhabitants  were  iUiterate,  and  the  Httle 
education  which  Boone  had  acquired  was  appre- 
ciated by  the  authorities.  Quarrels  between  neigh- 
bors and  disputes  of  many  kinds  were  referred  to 
him,  as  the  chief  official  of  the  district,  and  naturally 
he  settled  them  in  a  manner  entirely  informal  and 
original.     He  knew  little,  if  any,  law  and  despised 


i   "2 

Y.        — 


■f.  -^ 

y  -yj 

O  '^ 

2;  D. 


TRAVELING  TOWARD  THE  SUNSET       231 

those  who  did,  believing  to  the  end  of  his  life  that  he 
had  been  tricked  out  of  his  Kentucky  lands  through 
the  chicanery  of  lawyers. 

Boone  heard  all  cases  unassisted,  himself  acting 
as  counsel,  judge,  and  jury.  He  cared  nothing  for 
evidence,  or  the  facts  of  a  case  from  which  he 
might  have  reasoned  the  truth,  because  he  ex- 
pected the  parties  to  a  suit  and  their  witnesses  to 
tell  him  only  that  which  was  true.  Upon  their 
testimony  his  decision  was  based.  He  imposed 
whatever  penalties  he  considered  reasonable  — 
sometimes  many  lashes  on  the  bare  flesh,  ''well  laid 
on."  With  a  fine  sense  of  justice  and  a  large  fund 
of  common  sense,  Boone  was  well  fitted  for  his 
official  task,  in  spite  of  his  ignorance  of  legal  pro- 
cedure. The  inhabitants  accepted  his  judgments 
as  fair  and  final,  and  as  syndic  he  was  altogether 
respected.  In  reporting  upon  him  later,  the  heu- 
tenant  governor  of  Louisiana  wrote : 

''Mr.  Boone,  a  respectable  old  man,  just  and 
impartial ;  he  has  already,  since  I  appointed  him, 
offered  his  resignation  owing  to  his  infirmities; 
beHeving  I  know  his  probity,  I  have  induced  him 
to  remain,  in  view  of  my  confidence  in  him,  for 
the  public  good." 

The  Emperor  Napoleon,  then  the  most  powerful 
monarch  across  the  sea,  was  planning  to  reconstruct 


232  DANIEL  BOONE 

Europe  according  to  his  own  ideas.  He  promised 
the  Duke  of  Parma  that  he  should  be  king  of 
Tuscany,  and  the  duke's  sister,  who  was  queen  of 
Spain  and  the  power  behind  the  Spanish  throne, 
induced  her  husband  to  cede  Louisiana  back 
to  France  as  a  token  of  gratitude  to  Napoleon. 
This  transfer  in  1800  would  have  ended  Spain's 
authority  throughout  Louisiana,  if  France  at  the 
moment  had  been  ready  to  take  possession.  Before 
the  exchange  was  formally  completed,  Napoleon 
was  on  the  verge  of  war  with  Great  Britain,  and 
feared  that  England  would  send  over  a  fleet  to 
America  and  rob  him  of  Louisiana. 

The  people  of  the  United  States  were  greatly 
disturbed  by  the  news  of  the  session.  They  were 
suspicious  of  the  daring  and  restless  spirits  in  con- 
trol of  affairs  in  France.  President  Jefferson  said, 
''This  little  event  of  France's  possessing  herself 
of  Louisiana  is  the  embryo  of  a  tornado." 

So  the  young  repubKc  decided  to  buy  Louisiana 
and  thus  obtain  the  Mississippi  Valley  and  the 
West  beyond,  as  far  as  the  Rocky  Mountains; 
and  Napoleon  determined  to  sell  it,  in  order  to  rid 
himself  of  a  problem  and  procure  funds  for  his  war 
with  England.  In  1803,  he  sold  the  rich  land  for 
two  cents  an  acre,  and  the  United  States  acquired 
a   territory  which  more   than   doubled   its   area. 


TRAVELING  TOWARD  THE  SUNSET       233 

The  step  was  a  momentous  one  for  the  American 
people,  but  to  Daniel  Boone  it  meant  further 
disaster. 

The  Stars  and  Stripes  were  raised  at  St.  Louis 
in  March,  1804,  and  Boone's  authority  as  syndic 
then  ceased,  for  the  ''Yankees,"  and  not  Spain, 
were  in  power.  He,  as  well  as  his  French  neighbors, 
lamented  the  new  regime  because  it  would  mean  an 
influx  of  noisy  settlers,  greedy  of  land  and  game, 
and  an  end  to  Louisiana's  peaceful  life. 

Unfortunately,  Boone  learned  no  lesson  by  his 
sad  experiences  in  Kentucky.  When  the  United 
States  Commissioners  investigated  the  land- titles 
of  the  Louisiana  settlers,  they  found  that  Boone's 
grant  had  never  been  registered.  According  to 
Spanish  law,  every  settler  was  obliged  to  occupy 
and  cultivate  his  claim  within  a  certain  time, 
and  to  obtain  the  approval  of  the  governor  at  New 
Orleans  as  well  as  the  signature  of  the  lieutenant 
governor  at  St.  Louis.  Again  Boone  failed  to  take 
the  necessary  precautions,  having  lived  near,  but 
not  on,  his  farm,  —  and  perhaps,  in  this  instance, 
he  was  not  entirely  to  blame.  He  understood  the 
lieutenant  governor,  Delassus,  to  say  that  a 
syndic  could  hold  his  land  by  right  of  office  only. 
The  American  commissioners  were  bound  by  ex- 
plicit directions ;    no  exception  could  lawfully  be 


234  DANIEL  BOONE 

made  even  in  Boone's  case.  His  grant  was  not  con- 
firmed. The  old  backwoodsman,  as  Mr.  H. 
Adding  ton  Bruce  says/  ''was  left,  at  the  age  of 
seventy-five,  and  after  a  career  of  exploration  and 
pioneering  unsurpassed  by  any  man  of  his  genera- 
tion, without  a  foot  of  land  that  he  could  call  his 
own." 

The  prairies,  the  forests,  the  herds  of  buffaloes, 
the  bears,  and  the  deer  of  Louisiana  pleased  Boone 
greatly,  and  during  his  term  as  syndic  and  for  a 
time  longer  he  hunted  frequently.  Although  his 
sight  was  less  keen,  and  his  hand  less  steady  than 
in  his  younger  years,  he  still  hunted  with  marked 
success.  The  great  naturalist,  John  James  Audu- 
bon, described  him  after  one  of  these  wanderings, 
as  follows : 

"Daniel  Boone,  or,  as  he  was  usually  called  in 
the  Western  country,  Colonel  Boone,  happened 
to  spend  a  night  with  me  under  the  same  roof,  more 
than  twenty  years  ago.  We  had  returned  from  a 
shooting  excursion,  in  the  course  of  which  his  ex- 
traordinary skill  in  the  management  of  the  rifle  had 
been  fully  displayed.  On  retiring  to  the  room  ap- 
propriated to  that  remarkable  individual  and  my- 
self for  the  night,  I  felt  anxious  to  know  more  of 
his  exploits  and  adventures  than  I  did,  and  accord- 

^  Quoted  from  "  Daniel  Boone  and  the  Wildtrness  Road." 


TRAVELING  TOWARD  THE  SUNSET      235 

ingly  took  the  liberty  of  proposing  numerous  ques- 
tions to  him.  The  stature  and  general  appearance 
of  this  wanderer  of  the  western  forests  approached 
the  gigantic.  His  chest  was  broad  and  prominent ; 
his  m.uscular  powers  displayed  themselves  in  every 
limb ;  his  countenance  gave  indication  of  his 
great  courage,  enterprise,  and  perseverance;  and 
when  he  spoke,  the  very  motion  of  his  lips  brought 
the  impression  that  whatever  he  uttered  could 
not  be  otherwise  than  strictly  true.  I  undressed 
whilst  he  merely  took  off  his  hunting  shirt,  and 
arranged  a  few  folds  of  blankets  on  the  floor,  choos- 
ing rather  to  lie  there,  as  he  observed,  than  on  the 
softest  bed." 

Boone  hunted  every  winter.  Sometimes  he  went 
alone,  but  usually  one  or  the  other  of  his  sons  or 
an  old  Indian  servant  accompanied  him.  He  had 
a  horror  of  burial  far  from  home,  and  made  his 
servant  swear  to  bring  his  body  back  to  Femme 
Osage,  in  case  of  death  in  the  forest.  In  spite  of 
advanced  years,  he  made  long  excursions  through 
the  great  game  fields  that  lay  for  hundreds  of  miles 
north,  south,  and  west  of  St.  Charles  County.  He 
traveled  as  far  as  Kansas  and,  when  he  was  eighty, 
he  made  his  way  as  far  West  as  the  Yellowstone. 
When  emigrants  from  the  East  pressed  into  Mis- 
souri and  disturbed  his  peace  of  mind,  he  wanted 


236  DANIEL  BOONE 

to  move  still  farther  west,  but  the  wisdom  of  his 
family  prevailed  and  he  remained  with  them.  He 
paddled  for  weeks  at  a  time  in  his  canoe  on  the 
Missouri  and  its  tributaries,  taking  his  servant  with 
him.  He  appeared  ''in  the  dress  of  the  roughest, 
poorest  hunter."  When  he  was  eighty-four,  he 
wrote  his  son,  Daniel  Morgan  Boone,  that  he 
hoped  the  next  autumn  to  pilot  a  party  of  settlers 
and  Osage  Indians  to  visit  the  salt  mountains, 
lakes,  and  ponds,  five  or  six  hundred  miles  westward, 
which  were  probably  situated  in  the  present 
Indian  Territory.  Tales  of  the  far  West  fas- 
cinated him,  as  had  Finley's  stories  of  Kentucky  in 
his  early  manhood,  and  any  information  regarding 
the  Rocky  Mountains  or  California,  the  beautiful 
land  beyond  them,  he  Hstened  to  eagerly. 

During  the  hunting  expeditions  of  his  old  age, 
Boone  was  obliged  to  be  constantly  on  the  alert, 
as  the  Indians  of  the  Northwest  were  often  un- 
friendly and  hostile.  Twice  in  these  later  years  he 
seems  to  have  been  in  imminent  danger.  Once 
he  was  attacked  by  a  few  members  of  the  Osage 
tribe  who  wished  to  rob  him,  but,  with  his  own 
strength  and  cunning  and  the  help  of  his  servant, 
he  was  able  to  scatter  them.  During  a  winter 
excursion  up  the  Grand  River,  —  a  stream  rising 
in  Iowa,  whither  he  paddled  alone,  it  is  said,  for 


TRAVELING  TOWARD  THE  SUNSET       237 

trapping  beavers,  —  he  discovered  an  encampment 
of  Indians  near  his  own  shelter.  He  feared  that  the 
savages  would  find  his  traps  and  so  detect  the 
presence  of  a  white  man,  but,  as  good  luck  would 
have  it,  a  snowstorm  buried  the  traps.  He  had 
laid  in  a  supply  of  venison,  turkeys,  and  bear  meat, 
and  by  keeping  in  hiding,  and  by  cooking  his  food 
only  in  the  dead  of  night  when  the  smoke  from  his 
fire  could  not  be  seen,  his  presence  was  unsuspected. 
Twenty  days  later,  when  the  snow  had  melted,  the 
Indians  broke  camp  and  Boone's  anxiety  ended. 

Boone  desired  to  obtain  beaver  skins  in  partic- 
ular, then  worth  nine  dollars  each  in  the  market 
at  St.  Louis,  as  he  wanted  to  settle  his  old  debts  in 
Kentucky.  In  18 10,  the  season  having  been  most 
successful,  he  set  off  for  the  East.  Boone  had  kept 
no  book  account,  it  is  said,  and  did  not  know  how 
much  he  owed  nor  to  whom  he  was  indebted. 

"In  the  honest  simpHcity  of  his  nature,"  writes 
Dr.  John  M.  Peck,  in  his  volume  on  Daniel  Boone, 
"he  went  to  all  with  whom  he  had  had  dealings, 
and  paid  whatever  was  demanded." 

The  story  goes  that  he  returned  to  Missouri,  happy 
and  care-free,  with  only  fifty  cents  left  in  his  pocket. 

"Now,"  said  he,  "I  am  ready  and  willing  to  die. 
I  have  paid  all  my  debts.  No  one  will  say  when  I 
am  gone,  'Boone  was  a  dishonest  man.'" 


238  DANIEL  BOONE 

In  the  East  his  old  friends  welcomed  him  warmly 
and,  sympathizing  with  him  in  his  loss  of  lands  in 
Missouri,  suggested  that  he  make  an  attempt  to 
regain  them.  They  assured  him  of  their  support 
in  any  effort  which  he  might  make.  They  also 
told  him  that  appreciation  of  his  great  work  for  the 
West  was  growing,  and  that  he  was  fast  becoming 
an  heroic  figure  to  Kentuckians.  With  this  en- 
couragement, he  framed  a  memorial  to  the  Ken- 
tucky Legislature  in  181 2,  begging  the  members  to 
help  him  in  securing  from  Congress  a  new  judgment 
regarding  his  grant  in  Missouri.  He  told  at 
length  the  story  of  his  work  for  Kentucky  and  of 
his  misfortunes,  and  stated  that  he  had  appealed 
to  Congress  for  relief. 

''Your  memoriaHst,"  Boone  said,  "cannot  but 
feel,  so  long  as  feeling  remains,  that  he  has  a  just 
claim  upon  his  country  for  land  to  Uve  on,  and  to 
transmit  to  his  children  after  him.  He  cannot 
help,  on  an  occasion  like  this,  to  look  towards 
Kentucky.  From  a  small  acorn  she  has  become  a 
mighty  oak,  furnishing  shelter  to  upwards  of  four 
hundred  thousand  souls.  Very  different  is  her 
appearance  now  from  the  time  when  your  memorial- 
ist, with  his  Uttle  band,  began  to  fell  the  forest 
and  construct  the  rude  fortification  at  Boones- 
borough." 


TRAVELING  TOWARD  THE  SUNSET      239 

The  petition  was  referred  to  the  Senate  of  Ken- 
tucky and  a  resolution  was  adopted  unanimously 
by  both  Houses,  instructing  their  representatives 
at  Washington  to  do  all  that  was  possible  in  Boone's 
behalf,  it  being  ''As  unjust  as  it  was  impolitic 
that  useful  enterprise  and  eminent  services  should 
go  unrewarded." 

Boone's  appeal  and  this  resolution  were  con- 
sidered by  the  Congressional  Committee  on  public 
lands,  and  on  December  24,  18 13,  a  favorable  re- 
port was  made.  A  few  weeks  later,  by  con- 
gressional enactment,  possession  of  his  Spanish 
grant  was  restored  to  the  venerable  pioneer. 

This  appropriate  recognition  would  have  brought 
to  Daniel  Boone  the  complete  satisfaction  and 
happiness  which  he  so  richly  merited,  if  he  could 
have  shared  the  honor  with  his  wife.  Before  final 
legislative  action  was  taken,  Rebecca  Boone  passed 
away,  deeply  mourned  by  the  hardy  backwoods- 
man for  whom  her  gentleness,  generosity,  and 
heroism  had  made  her  a  fitting  wife.  With  him 
she  had  braved  and  suffered  the  perils  of  the  wilder- 
ness, always  courageous,  cheery,  and  confident 
in  his  ability  and  ultimate  success.  For  more  than 
half  a  century  she  had  been  his  companion. 

Serene  and  sunny  as  ever  at  eighty-three,  Boone 
left  his  own  lonely  home  and  went  to  Uve  with  his 


240  DANIEL  BOONE 

daughter  Jemima,  who,  it  will  be  remembered,  had 
married  Flanders  Calloway.  He  spent  much 
of  his  time  with  his  sons,  Daniel  Morgan  and 
Nathan,  but,  with  the  coming  of  autumn,  he  grew 
restless.  He  longed  to  get  away  from  the  settle- 
ments and  into  the  wilderness,  to  wander  and  hunt 
and  be  free.  With  a  servant  or  a  companion,  he 
would  put  off  in  his  canoe  and  paddle  for  weeks 
along, the  Missouri  and  the  many  streams  flowing 
into  it.  In  summer  he  helped  to  farm,  and  during 
the  winters  he  repaired  rifles  and  traps  and  made 
powderhorns,  tastefully  carved,  for  his  grand- 
children and  friends. 

Many  visitors  from  the  East  came  to  see  him, 
some  being  greatly  surprised  to  find  so  famous  an 
Indian  fighter  so  gentle  and  kindly.  Their  many 
questions  called  forth  thrilling  stories  from  their 
white-haired  host,  which  he  told  gladly  but  with  no 
ostentation.  He  looked  upon  his  experiences  and 
achievements  only  as  the  fulfillment  of  his  duty. 

In  1819,  the  American  artist,  Chester  Harding, 
called  upon  Boone  for  the  purpose  of  painting  his 
portrait.^  The  artist  found  him  alone  in  a  cabin,  a 
part  of  an  old  blockhouse,  where  he  was  staying 
during  a  hunt.  He  found  him  "  engaged  in  cooking 
his  dinner.  He  was  lying  in  his  bunk,  near  the 
*  See  frontispiece  of  this  volume. 


TRAVEIJNG  TOWARD  THE  SUNSET     241 

fire,"  said  Mr.  Harding,  '^and  had  a  long  strip  of 
venison  wound  around  his  ramrod,  and  was  busy 
turning  it  before  a  brisk  blaze,  and  using  salt  and 
pepper  to  season  his  meat.  I  at  once  told  him  the 
object  of  my  visit.  I  found  that  he  hardly  knew 
what  I  meant.  I  explained  the  matter  to  him, 
and  he  agreed  to  sit.  He  was  (nearly)  ninety 
years  old,  and  rather  infirm ;  his  memory  of  passing 
events  was  much  impaired,  yet  he  would  amuse  me 
every  day  by  his  anecdotes  of  his  earlier  life.  I 
asked  him  one  day,  just  after  his  description  of 
one  of  his  long  hunts,  if  he  never  got  lost,  having 
no  compass.  'No,'  he  said,  'I  can't  say  as  ever  I 
was  lost,  but  I  was  bewildered  once  for  three  days.' " 

Thus,  among  his  affectionate  children,  grand- 
children, and  friends,  he  Hved  for  three  years  after 
Rebecca  Boone's  death.  Then,  with  little  warning 
and  no  suffering,  he  fell  into  his  last  sleep  in  his 
son  Nathan's  house,  on  September  26,  1820,  in 
the  eighty-sixth  year  of  his  age.  He  was  buried 
beside  his  wife  on  the  quiet  bank  of  Teugue  Creek, 
about  a  mile  from  the  Missouri  River. 

When  he  died,  the  convention  for  drafting  the 
constitution  of  the  new  state  of  Missouri  was  in 
session  at  St.  Louis.  Upon  hearing  the  news,  the 
delegates  adjourned  for  the  day  and  wore  crepe  on 
their  left  arms  for  twenty  days,  in  respect  to  Boone's 


242  DANIEL  BOONE 

memory.  He  passed  away  as  quietly  as  he  had 
lived,  and  at  a  time  when  the  West,  which  he  had 
helped  to  found,  was  taking  another  step  of  prog- 
ress. He  died  with  a  simple  faith  in  God  and  in  a 
life  hereafter,  as  the  following  quaint  and  touching 
letter  to  his  brother  Samuel's  wife  shows. 

October  the  19th  18 16. 
Deer  Sister 

With  pleasuer  I  Rad  a  Later  from  your  sun  Samuel 
Boone  who  informs  me  that  you  are  yett  Liveing  and  in 
good  health  Considing  your  age  I  wright  to  you  to  Latt 
you  know  I  have  Not  forgot  you  and  to  inform  you  of  my 
own  Situation  sence  the  Death  of  your  Sister  Rabacah 
I  Leve  with  flanders  Calaway  But  am  at  present  at  my 
sun  Nathans  and  in  tolarabel  halth  you  Can  gass  at  my 
feihngs  by  your  own  as  we  are  So  Near  one  age  I  Need  Not 
write  you  of  our  satuation  as  Samuel  Bradley  or  James 
grimes  Can  inform  you  of  Every  Surcomstance  Relating 
to  our  famaly  and  how  we  Leve  in  this  World  and  what 
Chance  we  shall  have  in  the  next  we  know  Not  for  my  part 
I  am  as  ignerant  as  a  Child  all  the  Relegan  I  have  to  Love 
and  fear  god  beleve  in  Jeses  Christ  Don  all  the  good  to  my 
Nighbour  and  my  self  that  I  Can  and  Do  as  Little  harm  as 
I  Can  help  and  trust  on  gods  marcy  for  the  Rest  and  I 
Beleve  god  neve  made  a  man  of  my  prisepel  [principle]  to 
be  Lost  and  I  flater  my  self  Deer  sister  that  you  are  well  on 
your  way  in  Cristeanaty  gave  my  Love  to  all  your  Childran 
and  all  my  frends  fearwell  my  Deer  sister 

Daniel  Boone. 


TRAVELING  TOWARD  THE  SUNSET       243 

Twenty-five  years  later,  when  Kentucky  had 
become  an  important  state,  when  the  forests  along 
the  Missouri  River  had  been  cut  away,  and  the 
Mississippi  Valley  had  begun  to  hum  with  life 
and  business,  the  people  of  Kentucky  realized 
that  Daniel  and  Rebecca  Boone  were  sleeping  far 
from  their  real  home.  Daniel  Boone  had  blazed 
the  westward  trail.  Daniel  and  Rebecca  Boone 
had  conquered  and  loved  the  wilderness  and  had 
there  built  cabins.  That  wilderness  had  become  the 
thriving  state  of  Kentucky,  and  by  legal  proceed- 
ings, which  Boone's  simple  nature  could  not  fathom, 
it  had  bereft  him  of  lands  which  belonged  more 
rightfully  to  him  than  to  any  one  else.  Ought 
not  the  remains  of  Daniel  and  Rebecca  Boone  to 
rest  in  Kentucky  soil? 

In  1845,  ^^^  legislature  of  Kentucky  sent  com- 
missioners to  Missouri  to  appeal  to  the  people  to 
allow  them  to  carry  out  their  wish.  Reluctantly, 
the  Missourians  yielded.  The  remains  were  re- 
moved and  re-interred  in  Frankfort  Cemetery, 
Kentucky,  September  13,  1845,  with  appropriate 
ceremonies  and  in  the  presence  of  a  great  gathering. 
According  to  the  procession  order,  it  was  requested 
that  all  business  be  suspended  during  the  services, 
and  that  all  persons  unite  in  the  ''procession  for 
the  re-interment  of  the  great  pioneers  of  the  West." 


244  DANIEL  BOONE 

Almost  every  section  of  Kentucky  was  represented 
and  many  came  from  the  West  and  Southwest  to 
attend  the  final  honors  to  those  who  in  life  had 
been  so  greatly  respected  and  beloved. 

Thus  Daniel  and  Rebecca  Boone  at  last  came 
home. 

Picturesque,  unworldly,  lovable,  and  heroic, 
Daniel  Boone  will  always  stand  high  among  Ameri- 
can heroes.  Biographers  admit  his  faults  and 
failings,  and  we  know  that  he  was  neither  the  first 
explorer  of  Kentucky  nor  the  first  settler  in  the 
wilderness.  Even  his  Wilderness  Road  has,  in  great 
measure,  disappeared  —  yet  Kentucky  and  the 
states  beyond  remain. 

Daniel  Boone  believed  that  he  was  especially 
ordained  to  open  up  the  West  for  his  country. 
There  he  lived  and  toiled  manfully  for  many  long 
years,  facing  grave  dangers,  fighting  Indians,  and 
guiding  pioneers  to  homes  of  plenty,  and  ultimate 
prosperity  and  peace.  Much  of  what  we  now 
call  the  Middle  West  is  so  intimately  associated 
with  Daniel  Boone  that  his  own  simple  words  are 
memorable  —  ''The  history  of  the  western  country 
has  been  my  history." 


Printed  in  the  United  States  of  America. 


'  I  ^HE  following  pages  contain  advertisements  of  a 
few  of  the  Macmillan  books  on  kindred  subjects. 


TRUE  STORIES   OF  GREAT 
AMERICANS 

"  Should  be  read  by  every  boy  and  girl." 

This  important  new  series  of  brief  and  vivid  biographies 
will  give  to  the  young  mind  an  intimate  picture  of  the  greatest 
Americans  who  have  helped  to  make  American  history.  In 
each  instance  the  author  has  been  chosen  either  because  he  is 
particularly  interested  in  the  subject  of  the  biography,  or  is 
connected  with  him  by  blood  ties  and  possessed,  therefore,  of 
valuable  facts.  Only  those,  however,  who  have  shown  that 
they  have  an  appreciation  of  what  makes  really  good  juvenile 
literature  have  been  entrusted  with  a  volume.  In  each  case 
they  have  written  with  a  child's  point  of  view  in  mind,  those 
events  being  emphasized  which  are  calculated  to  appeal  to  the 
younger  reader,  making  a  full  and  well-balanced  narrative,  yet 
always  authentic- 

"  Most  admirable  in  their  construction  and  purpose.  The 
volumes  are  interesting  and  attractive  in  appearance,  graphic 
in  style,  and  wonderfully  inspiring  in  subject  matter,  reaching 
an  enviable  mark  in  juvenile  literature.'" — Philadelphia  Public 
Ledger. 

"  Far  away  from  the  '  dry  as  dust '  type  of  biography." 

—  San  Francisco  Bulletin. 

"  Simply  and  attractively  told.  .  .  .  Especially  interesting 
to  children." —  Christian  Advocate. 

"An  excellent  series."  —  New  York  Sun. 

See  the  following  pages  for  descriptions  of  the  individual  books 
of  this  series. 


THE   MACMILLAN   COMPANY 

Publishers  64-66  Fifth  Avenue  New  York 


TRUE   STORIES  OF  GREAT  AMERICANS 

The  Lives  of  National  Heroes  Told  in  a  New  Way 
for  Children 


EACH   VOLUME   ILLUSTRATED,  $.50 


Christopher  Columbus  By  Mildred  stapiey 

Mildred  Stapiey  has  consulted  new  and  recently  discovered 
sources  of  contemporary  information,  and  the  history  of 
Columbus'  voyages  is  revised  and  corrected,  though  the 
romance  and  excitement  still  glow  through  the  record  of  his 
achievements,  and  his  fame  as  a  daring  navigator  remains  an 
example  of  courage  and  unequalled  valor. 

Captain    John    Smith  By  Rossiter  Johnson 

The  adventurous  Captain  who  founded  Virginia  lived  the 
life  of  a  typical  hero  of  romance  —  Soldier  of  Fortune  in 
America,  Europe,  Asia,  and  Africa,  pirate,  slave,  and  friend 
of  princes.  He  was  an  able  executive  and  a  man  of  energy 
and  capacity. 

William     Penn  By  Rupert  S.  Holland 

The  life  of  William  Penn  is  of  especial  interest  and  value  be- 
cause the  events  of  his  career  are  closely  related  to  American 
and  English  history  at  a  time  when  America  was  separating 
herself  from  her  parent  country  and  shaping  her  destiny  as  an 
independent  RepubHc. 

Benjamin    Franklin  By  E.  Lawrence  Dudley 

As  a  statesman,  diplomat,  scientist,  philosopher,  and  man  of 
letters,  Benjamin  Franklin  was  the  foremost  American  of  his 
time.  The  story  of  his  life  is  an  inspiring  and  stimulating 
narrative,  with  all  the  fascination  and  interest  of  Colonial  and 
Revolutionary  America. 

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Publishers  64-66  Fifth  Avenue  New  York 


TRUE   STORIES  OF  GREAT  AMERICANS 

New  Illustrated  Biographies  for  Young  People 


EACH  VOLUME   ILLUSTRATED,  $.50 


Thomas    A.     Edison  By  Francis  Rolt-Wheeler 

Thomas  Alva  Edison  is  the  typical  American.  From  boy- 
hood to  ripest  manhood  he  has  been  keen  to  see  an  opportu- 
nity, and  quick  to  turn  that  opportunity  to  a  practical  use. 
His  genius  is  peculiar  because  it  is  so  American. 

Robert    Fulton  By  Alice  C.  Sutcllffe 

The  life  of  Robert  Fulton  makes  good  reading.  The  story 
of  his  belief  in  and  work  upon  a  submarine  and  his  journeys 
to  France  and  England  to  lay  his  plans  before  the  British 
Government  —  his  steamboat,  and  the  years  of  study  and  labor 
which  went  toward  perfecting  it  —  his  paintings  —  his  travels 
in  foreign  lands  in  days  when  American  travellers  were  few  — 
combine  to  make  one  of  the  most  interesting  and  inspiring 
books  of  the  series. 

Robert     E.     Lee  By  Bradley  Oilman 

Robert  E.  Lee  ranks  with  the  greatest  of  all  English-speak- 
ing military  leaders.  Bradley  Oilman  has  told  the  story  of  his 
life  so  as  to  reveal  the  greatness  and  true  personality  of  a  man 
"who  has  left  an  enduring  memory  of  the  highest  idealism." 

Davy    Crockett  By  WilUam  C.  Sprague 

No  fictitious  tale  of  perils  and  adventures  could  surpass  the 
true  story  of  Davy  Crockett,  pioneer.  'His  life  and  adventures 
are  closely  bound  up  with  the  greatest  events  of  American 
history. 

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Publishers  64-66  Fifth  Avenue  New  York 


TRUE   STORIES  OF  GREAT  AMERICANS 
New  Illustrated  Biographies  for  Young  People 


EACH  VOLUME   ILLUSTRATED,  $.50 


Nathan    Hale  By  jean  Chnstie  Root 

There  is  hardly  another  story  in  the  whole  range  of  Ameri- 
can history  which  contains  so  much  of  inspiration  and  splendid 
heroism  as  that  of  Nathan  Hale. 

"There  is  more  than  the  work  of  a  gifted  biographer  here. 
There  is  a  message."  —  New  York  World. 

U.     S.     Grant  By  F.  E.  Lovell  Coombs 

There  is  but  little  fiction  which  can  compare  in  interest  with 
the  true  story  of  Ulysses  S.  Grant.  Mr.  Coombs  has  told  it 
admirably. 

Abraham     Lincoln  By  Daniel  E.  Wheeler 

Another  view  of  the  greatest  product  of  American  democ- 
racy. The  inspiring  story  of  the  great  war  President  told  with 
spirit  in  a  new  way. 

NEW   VOLUMES 
Daniel    Boone  By  Ludle  GulUver 

La    Salle  By  Louise  S.  Hasbrouck 

Lafayette  By  Martha  F.  Crow 


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Publishers  64-66  Fifth  Avenue  New  York 


